Rise of the Necrotics (Books 1-4) Page 3

  There’s no easy way to climb over a pile of dead bodies. You have to step on them, and it’s a little disconcerting feeling the skin of someone that used to be alive slip off their arm as you try your hardest not to mangle their dead body. It just felt wrong walking on them, but there wasn’t any other way into the room. The pile shifted as I took my next step and my leg sunk into the gap up to the knee.

  I was never going to be able to wear these shoes again, or the pants for that matter. In fact, I’d be tossing all of these clothes in the trash as soon as we got the hell out of here. Then I was going to take about six million showers. The only way I’d consider tonight a win was with a healthy bonus, and new courtside tickets.

  “Pull your head out of your ass and help me!” Garfield roared as the person under him moaned again.

  This time I sprang into action stepping over the corpses with ease. Ok, relative ease. I didn’t fall on my face, but I didn’t look like a lioness bounding across the Serengeti either. I made it to Garfield and started trying to shift a few of the corpses around so he could pull our moaner free.

  The bodies shifted just the right way, and Garfield pulled the man forward with everything he had. The dirty gooey mess of a man was wrenched from the pile and lying face down on the ground. Garfield looked at the unmoving body and shrugged before leaning down to help him.

  I pulled my light free from the strap on my hip and shined it on the man as Garfield tried to help him up. A scream burst from unsub’s lips like something from a little girl in a horror movie. Half of the man’s face was sagging as if he suffered from a stroke. But that wasn’t what had me worried. The terrifying run out of the building screaming vibe came from the shattered eyeball hanging against his cheek.

  How in the fuck was he still alive? “Gordon, you’re going to want to back away real slow. We’ve got a serious problem here.”

  Garfield turned to look at me and then looked where I was pointing. Garfield squatted down to inspect the man and pointed at something else I hadn’t noticed before. Half of the man’s foot was missing. Like it had been chopped cleanly off about halfway down. The stump was covered in a blackish crust that said the wound had bled for a long time.

  I looked back at Garfield shaking my head. What in the hell had we just stumbled into? He had a stunned look on his face and started pulling his arm back from where he had been pointing at the man’s foot. As his arm moved up in front of the man’s chest the bastard grabbed it, reared back, and struck his exposed forearm like a rattlesnake.

  My partner screamed as the man worried at his flesh like a dog with a bone. He hit him in the head four times with his left hand before the man fell free. Garfield scrambled away as the man moaned and tried to grab him again. This time the man on the ground almost seemed to sound excited. What was with this psycho?

  Maybe there should have been a sign on the bathroom door that said Don’t wade into the room full of corpses. Although, we’d seen worse a few times and probably would have ignored such a courteously placed sign if it existed anyway. Not that my partner would have cared about crossing a river full of flesh-eating fish if it meant he got to play the hero. He was a sucker like that, always liked to be the one saving people.

  “Did you see that? The bastard bit me!” Garfield held out his arm to look at the wound before cutting the bottom of his shirt off to wrap around it. “I hate getting stitches,” he groaned as the blood soaked through his makeshift bandage and pattered softly against the floor.

  The man on the ground started to move. I had my Desert Eagle out before he could turn to face us. Using my other arm to steady my aim I called out to the man. “Stay on the ground, and our medical team will be here to help you shortly.”

  The man moaned and started to rise. His one eye swung against his cheek like a pendulum, and his mouth was hanging open. A mix of saliva and blood slowly dribbled out between the bits of flesh hanging in his teeth. I didn’t know what this guy was on, but sign me up to stay as far away from that shit as possible.

  “Sir, I need you to stay where you are,” I said, keeping my weapon pointed at his chest. “In fact, if you’d like to back up a few steps, that might be better for both of us.”

  “Calm down, Max. He’s just one man, and he’s injured.”

  The man moaned again and took a shambling step forward. At least Garfield had the sense to take a step back despite the chiding tone of his comment a moment ago. The man shuffled forward again, this time forcing me to take a step back. We repeated the ritual three more times before my back hit the wall. Panic flooded my body with adrenaline.

  “Stop, or I will shoot you.”

  “Stand down, Max. They’ll kick you out for sure if you shoot an unarmed and grievously injured prisoner.”

  “Prisoner?”

  “Well, I doubt he did that to himself.”

  “Good point, but if he gets any closer to me I’m still going to shoot him.”

  Drool poured from the man’s mouth, and I saw a thin film of white around the edges of his eyes. The moan he was making turned into a snarl as he lunged forward. My gun went off before I even realized I’d pulled the trigger. The first shot must have freed the logjam between my head and my finger because the next two rounds fired almost simultaneously. All three rounds punched through the man in front of me, sending him sailing back into the wall at the other side of the room.

  “Jesus, Max, I didn’t think you were that stupid,” Garfield said calmly as he pulled his weapon free and pointed it at the ground next to me. “I’m going to need you to put your gun down now.”

  “Gordon,” I whispered, pointing at the man on the ground with my flashlight.

  His eyes followed the light back toward the body. “You must have the worst aim of anyone I know to miss everything vital from so close.”

  “That shouldn’t be possible, I wasted the guy.”

  Thick almost tar-like blood trickled from the three wounds in his chest as the man rose to his feet. He didn’t moan so much as wheeze this time; I must have hit one of his lungs. He ignored Garfield and started shambling towards me again. My gun rose, and I fired without caring if Garfield put me down. I’d be damned if I was letting that bastard bite me.

  The bullet tore through the top of the man’s head splashing the wall behind him with bits of skull and brain matter. He fell to the ground and didn’t move again. What in the hell was going on? People with their eyes hanging out and missing half a foot shouldn’t be able to take three rounds to the chest and get up.

  Despite the fact I felt confident in my actions, I’d never shot someone that wasn’t already shooting at me. The realization of what I’d done was starting to set in.

  Garfield was next to me a moment later, pushing my gun down so it was pointed at the floor. “He was crazed and on some kind of drugs. That’s how I’m going to write it up in my report.”

  “That sounds a lot better than Max shot an unarmed person of interest four times.” Jesus, had I really just killed a man as if he were nothing? My video game riddled mind couldn’t accept the fact that he was just a man. I mean the facts don’t lie, right? Normal people don’t get up after being shot like that.

  “Pull yourself together. Backup will be here soon.” Garfield started walking back over the pile of bodies at the door. “Join me in the other room when you’re ready.”

  I was ready to get the hell out of this room this very second. It was nice to know my partner had my back, but if the dead guy really was just a man, I shot him in cold blood when I could have detained him. What in the fuck had I been thinking?

  The living room felt too bright after coming out of the darkened side of the house. Garfield opened the front door, and eight agents walked in. He started barking instructions and then motioned for me to join him in the kitchen.

  He opened the fridge and poked his head in, quickly pulling it out with a look of disgust. “All they have is some kind of kale shit,” he muttered. It was the easiest way to tell my partner was stres
sed. He never swore unless he was feeling overwhelmed. “Was it too much to hope that they had a six pack of ice cold beer waiting for us?”

  I held out my hand and watched it tremble for a moment before putting it down by my side and staring at the floor.

  “You did the right thing, kid. Never put yourself at risk, and we didn’t exactly come looking for bitters.” He moved from the fridge to stand in front of me. “It’ll be ok.”

  I wasn’t so sure about that. You couldn’t go around shooting unarmed civilians just because you worked for a shadow organization hidden inside the government’s massive budget. Even we had rules, and none of them said it was ok to just go around shooting people. I looked past my partner, unable to look him in the eye as I started to speak. The first word stalled on my lips as the whole refrigerator slid to the side, and a man holding a rifle stepped out.

  Chapter Four

  Max Meridious

  My gun snapped up as Garfield stepped forward. He dropped his arm down from where he had been reaching out to touch my shoulder, and pinned my wrist against his side. It was the perfect thing to do if I was trying to kill him. There was no way to get a good shot. Thankfully for both of us, I wasn’t trying to kill him, and his arm acted as a brace as I fired.

  Garfield reached for his own weapon, shouting, “What in the fuck, Max!” Everything after the word what was drowned out by the sound of my shots.

  The look on Garfield’s face changed from surprise to shock as the gun went off. I’m not sure if he knew what was happening yet. It wasn’t like I had time to scream hey, there is a guy with a gun behind you. My gun went off three more times making my partner jump with each one.

  Garfield pushed me back, bringing his own weapon up. Fear ran wild in his eyes, but also confusion as he was trying to put the pieces together. “Move and die!” Garfield shouted, trying to keep his eyes on me while peering behind him.

  I froze in place, wondering if I greatly overestimated the strength of our partnership. Did he really think I’d slipped that far off my rocker? I’d never shoot him, unless he shot at me first. I kept my gun in my hand, made sure it was pointed at the floor by my side. All he had to do was look behind him to confirm the truth. For fuck's sake, why hadn’t one of the other team members burst into the room to save my ass yet?

  My partner loomed above me, and there was no benefit of the doubt in his eyes this time. He had his gun pointed at the center of my chest. If he wanted me dead, I was gone simple as that. All I could do now was stay as still as possible until help arrived, and hope that bought enough time for someone to get here.

  “Behind you,” I whispered, afraid even the smallest sound would trigger him.

  “You say that like I’m just going to turn around and take a gander.”

  The footsteps thundering toward us from the living room came to a screeching halt. Ramirez looked from the dead body and back toward us. “Sir, what’s with the dead guy? I thought this place was clear.”

  Garfield’s gun dipped just a fraction as he looked away from me and over at Ramirez. “Did you say body?”

  “Yeah, there’s one right behind you. Messy as fuck too.” Ramirez glared at me. “Did you have to shoot him so many times? The cleaning guys hate that.”

  Garfield turned to look, and I made sure to stay frozen. God love Ramirez for saving my ass. His mouth was almost as smart as mine, but right now it sounded twice as nice as the sweetest song I’d ever heard. There were a million different ways Ramirez could have said what he did, but this was the one that completely defused the situation. At least it did for me.

  “Seems to me like instead of pointing your gun at him, you should be offering to buy the man a drink,” Ramirez smirked over at my partner.

  Garfield kicked the dead body, making sure it wasn’t going to get back up. “Seems that I might owe him more than a drink.” His eyes locked on mine like a falcon’s on a rabbit. “Miracle Max and his special ability strike again.” Garfield peered past the man’s feet and into the dark opening of the fridge before taking a step back and looking at me.

  I stood up slowly, popped the magazine from my Desert Eagle, and slid a new one into place before holstering the weapon. My partner still looked a little jumpy, but now that he knew I wasn’t going on a shooting spree, we could get back to business.

  I pointed at the refrigerator. “It wasn’t a miracle. I noticed some dust earlier, and just happened to look behind you at the right time.”

  “Some kind of luck you have; you should play the lottery,” Garfield snarked.

  “Gotta play to win,” I intoned, mocking the commercials.

  “That’s fucking awesome,” Ramirez shouted over both of us as he looked back into the main room of the house. “Donnie, you have to come see this shit. Max found a secret door behind the fridge.”

  Donnie walked into the room. He was only five foot six but had the same kind of commanding presence as my partner. A few strands of curly red hair fell free as he adjusted his helmet. “No shit.”

  “Dead guy almost got the cat with nine lives. If it wasn’t for his lucky charm, we’d have a new boss.” Ramirez turned, pointing at the body.

  “The boy wonder never ceases to amaze.” Donny said with a cocky grin as he started moving toward Ramirez so he could get a peek behind into the opening. Before he got the chance to look past Ramirez, gunfire erupted from the opening catching Ramirez in the chest.

  Donny moved to cover his partner just as I dove at the refrigerator. The unit slammed back into place, cutting off the gunfire temporarily. Donny had Ramirez by the arms and was hauling him into the other room.

  The two guys from the emergency medical team jumped into action. They had Ramirez on a stretcher and were sprinting out the door before I even had my gun free. Garfield was shouting orders to the rest of the team, trying to keep the chaos to a minimum.

  Donny gave a quick nod to Garfield and followed Ramirez’s stretcher out the door. The rest of the two tactical teams formed up in two lines. They had their MP5s pointed down, but they were ready to storm the castle. Garfield turned back towards me and motioned for me to pull the refrigerator away from the hole in the floor. Bullets slammed into the ceiling as the passageway opened. Kneeling down Garfield tossed two canisters into the hole behind the fridge.

  Smoke started to waft through the opening, and more gunfire hit the ceiling. How were they shooting the ceiling? It didn’t make sense unless they were shooting up a set of stairs. A secret door behind a fridge was one thing, but a secret set of stairs was something I hadn’t expected. Digging out a basement in Arizona was expensive work, something to do with rock hard clay being only a few yards under the surface. I motioned to my partner, making my fingers move like a man walking up the stairs. He gave me a look like I was crazy, and then he smiled as he realized what I was saying.

  Reaching behind him, Garfield waited until someone placed a flashbang in his hand. “Ear protection!” He gave everyone thirty seconds and then pulled the pin. The flashbang flew into the gap, and I smiled. We could still get out of this ok, and if Ramirez made it, this might even be a win, depending on what they found in the creepy hidden basement.

  The sound from the flashbang going off was enough to make me wince even being a floor above it with earplugs. For the people in the basement, it must have been deafening. It sounded like someone might have been screaming, but it was hard to be sure. Garfield brought his arm down, and the two teams ran down the stairs. Their MP5s roared to life, and then everything went silent.

  “Clear,” Sharon called from below.

  “Get some sort of ventilation set up down there to clear the smoke. No one goes in but Max or myself. Once we have a look, we’ll turn the scene over to you.”

  Sharon came up the stairs and jerked her earplugs free. She replaced the comm piece in her ear and then started shouting orders. Everyone filed out of the basement, two men ran out the front door as she pointed at a third man. “Dobbins, get me a med kit.” She turned and l
ooked pointedly at Garfield’s arm. “We need to do something about that wound.”

  “It’s nothing a few stitches can’t fix,” Garfield waved away her concern.

  Dobbins returned with the medical kit and handed it to Sharon before leaving the room. “Let’s see it.” She motioned for him to take off his improvised bandage. “Can’t have you contaminating all of our evidence.”

  “If there is any,” Garfield grunted through clenched teeth.

  Sharon continued to pour pure alcohol over the bite wound despite Garfield’s protests. “You should have told me this was a bite. The human mouth is a disgusting place, you don’t even want to know how many kinds of bacteria breed in there. You need to get to a hospital and have this treated properly.”

  “Just do your best.” When Sharon frowned at him, Garfield continued in a softer tone. “I promise I’ll go soon as long as you promise to stop ruining kissing for me.”

  Two men ran past with an industrial-sized fan connected to a huge amount of silver tubing.

  Sharon rolled her eyes at my partner and then looked at me. “Make sure he goes.”

  “I’ll do my best,” I agreed, with a disarming smile. If she thought I could make Garfield do anything he didn’t want to do, then she greatly overestimated the influence I had on the man.

  “I’ve seen your file; do better than your best this time,” Sharon said as she finished wrapping fresh white bandages around Garfield’s arm.

  “That kind of stings a little,” I said, not liking the implication that I was lacking in any way.

  Sharon slapped the metal bandage clip in place making Garfield wince as she stood up. Her eyes were fixed on mine. “Just do it.”

  Sharon walked out of the room, and Garfield watched her go with longing.

  “I think I might be even more afraid of her than I am of you,” I said looking between them.