It was getting worse, and I ran as hard as I could toward my trap. I probably never ran that fast in my life. In seconds I grabbed the Molotov; my hands were shaking so bad I fumbled with the lighter. Finally the rag caught, and I threw it back. When it hit the floor the bottle shattered, the flame leapt to the gasoline and the spill ignited. The corridor went up in an instant: the floor erupted, the fuel trail flashed to the cans and set them off in a heartbeat. A sharp, savage blast filled the hall with a wall of flame.
I was running when the shock hit me the heat wave knocked me off my feet and slammed me forward. I tumbled several times before I stopped. My head was ringing, a roaring like a siren turned up inside my skull. I forced myself onto my back. Through the cracked visor of the mask I watched tongues of fire dance around, and I felt the hot air burn my lungs. It got too hot; I looked down and realized my clothes were on fire. The fuel that had soaked me had ignited. I started slapping at the flames, feeling the skin under my clothes sear.
Alarm.
The lab siren wailed, and water poured from the ceiling. The flow filled the corridor fast, dousing the blaze; soon the flames subsided. Only in the far corners where the fuel had pooled did weak flames still smolder. Everything was blackened: charred walls, smoke, and bodies of the infected sprawled on the floor. I exhaled hard. Many had been torn apart by the blast or burned beyond recognition hopeful that they wouldn't rise.
When I staggered up, my vision dimmed. I swayed, almost collapsed forward. I planted a hand on the floor and panted; a hum throbbed at my temples. Then it hit me for real. The water… it could carry spores. Had I inhaled them when the mask cracked? I hauled myself up with effort, trying to stay away from the runoff. I needed a whole gas mask now. I fought my way to the stairwell to the second floor, collapsed at the railing and let my body gather a little strength.
After a moment, I pulled myself together and headed upward. At the doorway to the second floor, strange sounds came from beyond.
Tick-tick.
That sound again like some insect chirring nearby. Like a mantis, only louder. I barely had the strength to lift my weapon. Why didn't I think the alarm would trigger? I'd been the one to restore power I should've shut it off before the attack.
Gathering the last of my will, I lifted the weapon, pressed the barrel against my gut, and pulled the trigger.The shot deafened me. The sound split through my skull like a branch snapping inside my head. The recoil threw me backward I tumbled down the stairs and crashed onto the landing.
"Kh-kh…" I coughed.
Something heavy fell on top of me. Through blurred vision, I saw the twisted face of an infected trying to sink its teeth in.It didn't struggle long then froze and stood up, ignoring me entirely. I didn't hesitate grabbed the shotgun and put a round through its head.
Time slipped through my fingers. I tried to stand, pushing against the cold floor, then grabbed the railing. My legs trembled, barely responding.It was like being drunk so drunk my body wasn't mine anymore.
Never touched drugs, but I probably looked like a junkie. I crawled my way up the stairs, collapsed face-first onto the floor, and lay there for several seconds, unable to move. Finally, I forced myself upright and dragged my way into the lab block.I sank into a chair, eyes unfocused on the reports scattered across the desk. The letters blurred, swam, lost meaning. My thoughts crumbled like sand.
All I managed to make out was:
"Compound B - exhibits pronounced fungal cell destruction. Experiments on samples resulted in fatal outcomes. Not suitable for vaccine use. Highly toxic, lethal to humans."
My mind clouded. There was no more time to think. I was dying anyway one way or another.
I found a syringe. Beside it lay a vial marked "B." I drew a small dose and injected it into my arm.
At first, nothing. The haze in my vision began to clear, breathing got easier, thoughts steadied. Then, in an instant, everything froze and the hell began.My body convulsed, collapsing onto the floor.
Every muscle twisted in spasms. They clenched and jerked every second. Each nerve, every cell screamed. I couldn't stop it I was being turned inside out. Thousands of needles stabbed through every inch of me.
**************************
Two armored vehicles pulled up outside the lab. Soldiers in quarantine-zone uniforms stepped out.
"Report said there was movement here," said the man in the captain's uniform, adjusting his gas mask. "Masks on. Check comms. Move fast. Search every corner."
The team pulled on masks with internal comms, checked their flashlights, and entered the complex.
"A sweep team's already been through here," one of them told the captain. "Mission declared failed. Entire squad lost."
"Understood," the captain replied, walking slowly along the wall. "Then why's there power? Lights are on."
Most of the power grid had been destroyed in the bombings; only parts of the quarantine zone had been restored.
"The lab should've been dead, but there's emergency power. Someone turned it on," added the lieutenant.
"Why?" the captain murmured. "There's no weapons here. No supplies. Who'd bother with this place? Who's stirring the pot?"
Labs scientific sites, biologists were considered high-priority assets. They had to be protected at any cost, even lives. But Pittsburgh's forces didn't have spare men to guard this one. Once recon confirmed a signal, they sent an armed unit.
"Sir, look," the lieutenant pointed to a blackened wall and several bodies nearby. "Something blew here."
"Who cleared this lab and where are they now?" the captain said, tightening his grip on the rifle. "Stay sharp. There might be an armed group inside."
The few infected left were dispatched near the entrance. The squad swept the building and moved to the second floor.
"The weapon serials… they match ours," said the lieutenant, picking up a shotgun and a rifle, handing them over.
"They were fired recently," the captain said quietly, inspecting the guns.
A few steps later, they found a body in the middle of the lab.
"He was alone? Or left behind?" the captain knelt, carefully pulled the uniform aside, and lifted a dog tag.
"One of ours. Fedra special ops," he said softly. He pulled off the shattered mask, checked for a pulse.
"No sign of infection. No pulse either."
The lieutenant noticed an empty syringe nearby, with traces of clear liquid inside. The captain frowned, grunted under his breath, and stood.
A few minutes later, the team finished their sweep. Finding nothing unusual, the soldiers exited the lab, sealing and tagging the doors behind them.