Deadlocked 4

  DEADLOCKED 4

  By A. R. Wise

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright 2012 Aaron Wise

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Cover art by A.R. Wise

  CHAPTER 1 - THE WEIGHT

  "Another kid died." Forrester dropped a manila folder in the trashcan beside his associate's desk as he sighed. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes before checking his watch. "It's getting late."

  The man at the desk looked up from his work and scowled at his fellow scientist. "I don't care how late it is, Joel. We're not leaving the lab until we figure this out. We're too close to stop."

  "This place is a ghost town now. The General's still here, and he made a couple surgeons stay behind to help with incoming wounded, but that's it. Everyone else packed up and moved out."

  "Yes, I know."

  "They told us the generators are going to start powering down soon. Our area will be the last to go, but Mike said we've just got a day or two."

  The lead scientist crossed his arms and set them on the edge of his desk as he leaned forward. "The patients are too fragile to move right now. Three looks good, but the girl's cartilage has turned to sludge." He shook his head and looked up at Joel. "If Courtland succeeds, you know what'll happen. We've got to figure out what he was up to."

  Joel nodded and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger. "How did we not see this coming?"

  "Courtland and his group were smarter than us. It's as simple as that."

  "I guess we deserve it."

  The old man nodded. "Some of us do. Have you injected the Alpha-77 back into the dead one?"

  Joel Forrester shook his head and then scratched at the back of his shaggy hair. He yawned as he answered, "Nope."

  "Wasn't he infected?"

  "Yeah. But he had a mix of 77 and the virus." Joel shrugged, unconcerned. "He's not coming back. At least not anytime soon."

  The older scientist looked up and his confusion quickly turned to shock. He stood and walked briskly to the window.

  Joel turned and was startled by the sight of a boy standing in the center of the two rows of beds. The boy's back was turned to them and he shuffled the opposite direction, toward the two living children.

  "He's turned!" The older scientist screamed and struggled to open the door.

  The dead child in Blue Medical staggered up to the bed with the little girl sleeping on it. Joel and his boss ran into the room, between the beds, and tried to reach them before it was too late.

  Naomi Harris was five years old when she was eaten alive on a prison hospital bed where she'd been subjected to tests for the past two days. She died horrifically, wailing in pain as a little boy ripped into her body and chewed at her flesh. She screamed in terror and agony as she stared at the scientists that staggered away from her.

  * * *

  Levon convinced himself that Mark was still alive. For a fleeting moment, as he ran up the hill, he felt a sense of hope.

  The twin brothers could never be accused of having an easy life, but they stuck together through it all. As their family deteriorated, and their mother succumbed to a drug addiction, Levon and Mark had clung to one another for support. When a stray bullet meant for their mother's boyfriend crashed through their front door and struck Mark in the spine, it was Levon that held him as they waited for the ambulance. When Levon's life spiraled down into the same corner of depression and drug addiction that their mother's had, it was Mark that gave him the strength to stand up and walk away. Together, the two of them had managed to defy all expectations and hold their heads high as they took on a world that relegated them to second-class citizenship. Together, they were titans, but without Mark, Levon was lost.

  When Mark died, it would be inadequate to say a part of Levon died with him. It was far deeper than that. When Mark died, Levon died completely. The zombies that crawled the Earth were hardly different from the shiftless life that Levon would lead if Mark weren't there to guide him.

  There was a military vehicle on the road ahead. It looked like a Hummer, but was wider and plated with black, steel sheets that curled around the doors and gave it an almost turtle shell appearance. Red and blue lights spun on top and illuminated the night in a wash of color. As the lights spun, Levon caught rhythmic glimpses of a man in heavy armor standing over Mark's body. It was a paramedic, similar to the one that saved Laura at the dock. Below him, Mark shifted.

  Levon's heart swelled and his mouth stretched a smile nearly from ear to ear. His brother was alive! Levon continued to run, anxious to hold his brother in his arms again.

  He saw Mark reach his hand up, toward the paramedic, as if asking for help. The crippled man's fingers stretched as he desperately tried to touch his savior.

  The paramedic stepped back, pulled a pistol from his belt, and pointed it down at Mark's head.

  "No!" Levon screamed in terror as he watched the paramedic prepare to shoot Mark. He couldn't comprehend what was happening, but if he could reach the paramedic in time he would gladly rip the man's head off.

  The paramedic was startled and took another step back. He turned to face Levon and pointed the pistol at the quickly approaching, angry black man.

  "Put that fucking gun down!" Levon clenched his fists and prepared to take a bullet if necessary. Nothing but death could stop him from saving Mark.

  "Freeze." The paramedic staggered back along the side of the vehicle and his gun trembled in front of him.

  "That's my brother!" Levon was within a few yards now and started to slow down. His heart pounded in his chest and his fists were still clenched as he faced off with the man in the black armor.

  The paramedic wasn't wearing a helmet, and Levon could see that it was a young, scrawny kid under that heavy suit. His eyes were wide and blue, and his blonde hair had been shaved to stubble. He blinked rapidly as the gun wobbled in his grip. "Freeze."

  Levon stepped forward, undaunted by the weapon pointed at him. Then he heard his brother's moan.

  He didn't react to it at first, and instead stayed focused on the frightened kid with the gun. Then a gut wrenching reality snuck into Levon's mind. He turned to look at his brother's body.

  Mark clawed at the pavement to pull himself forward. His fingernails snagged on the blacktop and ripped off as the handicapped man struggled to pull his body along. He looked up at Levon and moaned in hunger.

  "No." Levon felt a near physical assault from the realization of what had happened. Mark reached out to him with his bloody, ravaged fingertips, and growled in desperation. His eyes were white and cloudy, and spittle hung in ropes from his gaping maw. "Not you, bro. Not you."

  "I'm sorry," said the kid in the black armor as he continued to point the gun at Levon. He finally lowered his aim back down again.

  Levon saw the paramedic point the gun at Mark and he rushed to stop him. "Don't shoot."

  "What? Why not?"

  "He's my brother."

  "Not anymore." The paramedic moved back, away from the zombie that crawled at him. Levon stepped closer and snatched at the barrel of the gun, but the paramedic didn't release it. They struggled over the weapon for a second, but Levon raised his hand as if ready to backhand the boy if he didn't relent. The paramedic let go and the two of them stepped back to the rear of the military vehicle, further from Levon's crawling brother.

&n
bsp; "He's still my brother."

  "He's a zombie!"

  "I don't give a fuck. No matter what he is, there's no way in hell I'm going to stand by and let some douchebag, cracker mother fucker put a bullet in him." Levon threatened the paramedic with the butt of the gun and the boy cowered from it. "He's my brother."

  They watched Mark crawl forth. His legs dragged uselessly behind, but his strong arms pulled him with impressive speed. They had to move around the back of the vehicle as the zombie continued to gain ground.

  "He's dead," said the paramedic. "You should put him out of his misery."

  "Fuck you."

  "He's not your brother anymore."

  Levon glared at the stranger, wordlessly telling him that he had no business giving opinions on the matter. "Seriously, dude, fuck off." He looked back down at Mark. "He's my brother, no matter what."

  "He's a zombie. He's better off dead."

  "How do you know? What if being a zombie is the greatest thing in the Goddamn world? What if eating brains is like having ten orgasms all at once? How the fuck do you know he's better off with a bullet in his head?"

  "He's dangerous now." The paramedic tried to reason with Levon. "If you let him live, he could hurt someone."

  "Like who? No one's left in the city and you guys said they die off after a few days anyhow. Who's he going to hurt between now and then?"

  "Fine," said the young man as he raised his hands and stepped around the other side of the vehicle. "I was just told to come down here and get you guys to safety. I'm only here to help." He paused and then said, "But if it were me that turned, I wouldn't want to live."

  Levon watched Mark continue to crawl at them. He cringed as he saw Mark's fingers claw at the road, scraping strips of flesh off the tips as he went. His skin seemed to be irritated, as if it was being burned by the slime that still covered him from the coffins earlier.

  Levon itched at his own arm. His skin had started to develop a rash in the areas where the syrupy zombie goo had dripped down on him from the plastic coffin, but it had been washed off when he dove into the water to save Billy. Now he wondered if the acidic powder that the military was using to break down the corpses was still active. The thought caused a shiver of disgust and fear to rise up through him.

  "Come on," said the paramedic. "I'll drive you down to the dock. Is everyone okay down there?"

  "No." Levon shook his head. "They're definitely not okay. Shit's all fucked up." He stared at the living corpse of his brother. "All fucked up."

  "Then let's go." The paramedic opened the passenger side of the vehicle and climbed in. He motioned for Levon to follow, but the grieving brother stayed put. "Come on."

  "No, you go. I'll meet you down there in a minute."

  The paramedic glanced down at the corpse that was rounding the rear of the vehicle. Levon stood on the street, near the open door, and watched his brother advance.

  "You sure?" the paramedic asked.

  "Yeah. I want a chance to say goodbye."

  The paramedic closed the door and moved to the driver's seat. Levon was left to say his final farewell to his beloved brother.

  The military vehicle jostled to life. The engine roared and hydraulics hissed as the chassis rose a foot higher before the four sets of wheels started to roll. Levon kept an eye on his advancing brother as the paramedic drove away.

  "You were it, bro. You were all I had left."

  Mark's corpse scrambled across the pavement as he dragged his useless legs behind him. He kept his eyes on Levon as he growled and gnashed his teeth while clawing at the air between them.

  "I didn't give a fuck about anyone but you. You know that?" Levon had to walk in a circle around his brother to stay out of reach. "I would've done anything for you." Tears fell across his cheeks. "I can't kill you."

  Mark growled and continued to crawl toward his brother.

  Levon stared down the barrel of the gun at Mark's head. He trembled, held his breath, and started to squeeze the trigger. Then he pointed it away and backed off before submitting to a series of sobs that doubled him over in anguish.

  Still, Mark crawled forward.

  "I can't kill you!"

  Mark's corpse looked at him and his mouth drooped open as saliva poured out of the corners. A guttural, inhuman noise escaped him as he hungered for flesh.

  "What happens to me?" He paused as if expecting an answer. "What happens to me if I shoot you? What's left for me?" He tapped the gun against his chest. "What good is my life if I don't have you in it? Where do I go from here? How am I supposed to keep going?"

  He stared at Mark and whispered, "I can't live without you." He set the barrel of the gun against his temple and let it teeter there with his trembling finger on the trigger. "I need my brother here with me."

  Mark's fingertips reached Levon's shoes and he desperately clawed at them to find a grip. He pulled himself forward and opened his mouth to take a bite out of Levon's leg.

  Levon came to a realization that helped him decide to live. He lowered the gun and aimed back down at Mark.

  "But you ain't my brother no more."

  In the darkness of a fall evening, as the city lay dead and silent, there was a gunshot that echoed through the streets. Billy and the others must have heard it, but they would never ask what happened, and Levon would never tell.

  Some things are better left unsaid.

  * * *

  "Stop crying," said Trev as he guided the fishing boat through the wreckage of Becken Bridge. He sat in the back of the aluminum boat, guiding the off board motor, as his captive sat quivering at the front. She was pressed as far from him as she could get and held her knees tightly against her chest as she sobbed. She kept her face pressed to her knees and refused to look at him. "For fuck's sake, kid. Shut the hell up."

  Trev slowed the motor and let the boat coast through the debris that littered the water. Becken Bridge had been bombed, and the majority of its steel structure had collapsed into the bay, nearly choking off entry into the channel. It was difficult to move through the skeletal remains that protruded from the water like fingers from a grave, and he had to slow down to make sure not to hit any of the debris too hard. He watched as his captive five-year-old fretfully peered into the water at her side.

  "Thinking of jumping in?"

  She shook her head and then retreated back to her curled position with her face hidden from him. Trev glanced over the edge of the boat at the murky, brown water.

  "There must be all sorts of dead things down there. You sure you don't want to go for a dip? It might be fun."

  She kept her head down and continued to cry.

  "If you don't want to go for a swim, then you'd better stop crying."

  "I…" she started to say something but couldn't finish.

  "What's that, sweetie?"

  "I hate you."

  Trev laughed and his boisterous reaction caused the boat to wobble. Kim was startled by the motion and reached out to cling to the boat's side. He saw her fear and began to rock the boat to torment her.

  "That's a mean thing to say," he said as he jostled the boat.

  "Stop it."

  "Why?" He rocked harder. "If you hate me so much, why don't you jump in and try to swim away? Afraid the sharks will get ya?" A wave of water slopped over the front of the boat and splashed onto the little girl. She reacted as if a bucket of boiling water had been thrown on her. She dove forward and fell against the middle seat of the boat, a foot away from Trev, and cried out as the water touched her.

  "What the hell, kid? You afraid of water or something?"

  She scowled at him. "Go to hell."

  "That's it." He released the throttle and let the boat slow to a stop. He rolled up the sleeves of his uniform and stuck his dirty finger into his mouth to scoop out the remains of the tobacco he'd been sucking the last bit of flavor out of for far too long. He tossed the wad out of the boat and a sloppy mess of it caught on the lip, rolling back down into the concaved bottom
of the aluminum vessel. "It's about time you learned a lesson."

  He grabbed her thin arm and jerked her to her feet. She yelled out and her voice carried over the water of the channel as he wrestled to keep her steady. He squeezed until the rest of her body went limp and she cringed from the pain. Then he pulled her higher until only the tips of her toes touched the bottom of the boat. She grasped at his grip on her arm and whimpered as he shook her. Trev pressed her belly against the lip of the boat. He moved to stand behind her and twisted her arm around as if preparing to handcuff her. She was wearing a back brace and he had to raise her up until her waist was pressed against the side so that he could bend her forward.

  "You scared of the water?" He put his left hand on the back of her head and started to push her down. She screamed out and struggled, but he thrust his body against her and squished her waist on the side. Then he clenched her hair in his hand and forced her further over the edge so that her face was dangerously close to the lapping waves.

  "You scared?" he continued to taunt her. He asked her over and over as she trembled beneath him. "You scared, little girl?"

  "Yes."

  The waves splashed against the side of the boat as her hair hung down in the murky water. Finally, he released her and sat back down on the seat beside the motor.

  He snickered as she glared at him. "Don't fuck with me, kid. If you fuck with me, I promise you'll find something scarier right here in this boat than anything in that water."

  Kim crawled back to the front of the boat and curled up as she wept.

  "You should be grateful that I took you with me. I could've left you back there to die with your mom and sister, but I decided to save your life. And this is the thanks I get." He shook his head as if amazed at his bad luck. He glanced back over the edge and into the muddy water. "Have you always been scared of the water?"

  She ignored him.

  "Answer me." He snapped at her. "Answer me or I'll throw you overboard. Have you always been scared of going under?"