I haven’t yet figured out a name for this series of stories, so this will have to do. This is my first attempt at writing a zombie apocalypse story, so if it seems cheesy, bear with me, I’m still perfecting my writing style. Without Further ado, here is the first story.
Jonah Stockman
Location: Classified
Time: 1045
Bio-Threat Level: 5
I made my final rounds of the testing grounds, and briefed the oncoming shift of their responsibilities. An assistant came into the viewing chamber and asked me if I was going to stay and oversee the progress in the maze. It was late, but I stayed just to make sure that everything went smoothly. Three test subjects, two men and one woman were ushered into the preparation area. The security door shut, and the metal gate in front of them opened, and they began running through the maze. Four carriers were set loose into the arena. The viewing room had over one hundred cameras scattered throughout the maze, giving us the ability to monitor the carriers closely. As I watched the experiment unfold, I was tapped on the shoulder by an assistant.
“Sir, you have a call,” she began, “it’s urgent.”
“Thank you.” I smiled and went to the phone on the wall. As I picked up the receiver a man’s voice began speaking into my ear. It was Arnold Jacobs, head of operations and security.
“Mr. Stockman, everything is running on schedule. There should be an extraction team heading our way. They’ll be here in 3 hours to collect data and carriers, along with X.”
“Excellent, keep me posted if anything changes.” With that, I hung up the phone and went back to viewing the monitors.
As soon as the testing was done, I instructed the assistants to bring the carriers to the loading cells and prepare them for transport. My eyes began to tire, I had been up for two days conducting experiments, gathering data and writing reports. A man of my position comes with having great power, but it also means more responsibilities. It also means that if the shit hits the fan, I have to answer for it.
Heading to towards the communal quarters, I wasted no time and jumped into the shower as soon as I got to my quarters. There’s definitely nothing better than having a nice scalding hot shower, followed by a quick cold water rinse. You feel refreshed and relaxed, and relaxation was something that I desperately needed. I grabbed the towel hanging on the towel rack and wrapped it around my waist while I walked over to the sink and wiped the condensation off the mirror.
My reflection was a wreck. My eyes had bags under them, and my face was covered in stubble. I splashed water onto my rugged face and rubbed my eyes. I stared back at my reflection, and recalled a younger me. It was hard to believe that twenty years had one by so fast. My short cropped hair began to show streaks of gray, and my once jubilant eyes were now a frosty stare.
Making my way to my bed, I slipped on some shorts and crashed onto my bed. I didn’t bother to pull the covers over me. I was exhausted, and all I wanted to do was close my eyes, and forget that I had to go back to doing the same thing in the morning. I closed my eyes and drifted into nothingness.
I awoke to the sound of alarms. I looked over at the clock on the wall, and it was two-thirty in the morning. The incessant ringing and obnoxious pangs kept reverberating in my ears. Frustrated, I grabbed the phone at my bedside, and called up the security office. There was no answer. I went to my computer terminal and loaded the security feeds onto the monitors.
One monitor flashed the words, “Bio-Threat Level 5.” On almost every monitor I saw infected personnel attacking everyone else. Without hesitation, I put on some clothes, and grabbed my Glock 17, extra ammo, and small transmitter radio. Whatever awaited me on the other side of my door; I had to be ready for. It was nearly pitch black, save for the red glow of the alarm lights that lit the corridors. How could this have happened? It was probably Asimov’s fault. I knew I should have killed him as soon as we discovered the fourth mutation of the virus.
I began to cut corners running into carriers at every turn. They were fast and hungered for flesh— my flesh. While turning another corner, I was knocked down by a carrier. The flashing lights illuminated my attackers face. Leering at me with those dead eyes, the carrier opened its mouth and prepared to lunge at me. I took aim, and pulled the trigger. The trigger pulled easily, and the barrel of my Glock let loose a nine millimeter round to the head of my oncoming attacker. I watched as the carrier’s body went limp and fell to the floor. I couldn’t stop running, not now. To stop means to die and to die meant that I would fail my mission.
I sought cover in a supply closet, and barricaded the door. I grabbed the radio at my side and tried to contact someone. During times of emergency all radio transmissions were to be set on channels one, three, and five. The radio cracked and hissed in static, broken transmissions kept going in and out.
“This is Jonah Stockman, chief overseer of this facility. Can anyone read me?” There was only more static. Frantic, I switched to channel three, and repeated my message. This time someone heard me.
“Mr. Stockman, this is Capt. Valentine. I read you loud and clear. What is your current position?”
I didn’t want to waste time about asking what the hell was going on, when it was obvious that everything had gone to shit.
“My current position is East Wing, section A, block four, five, one, seven. How copy?”
“Roger, that was a solid copy. We are in the West Wing, section D, near the west wing laboratory. My squad—“All I heard was gunfire. “Sir, we’re being overrun over here. We have to fall back. Otherwise, I’ll sustain heavy casualties, and won’t be able to rescue you!”
I didn’t like the sound of that at all, and the odds were definitely against me. The only solution was to make it to them.
“My best bet is to rendezvous with you and your squad, captain. This is what I propose: fall back into the lab and secure it, hold a cordon. Once you’ve set up, and purged the area, I want you to collect all data and samples, and continue to hold until I get to you. Do you understand? Set your frequency to channel thirteen, so we can communicate.”
“Solid copy, sir. Out.”
I checked my ammunition, and saw that I only had three more magazines left. That meant I only had fifty-one rounds, and making it to the lab wasn’t going to be easy if I ran into anymore of the carriers. On the wall to my left was a map of the area, I grabbed it and broke down the barricade to the door. Carriers greeted me to the left and to the right of me. I braced myself and started running down the corridor, darting in between the infected.
As long as I could keep away from their bites and being scratched I would be ok. My legs kept moving, and my mind didn’t have time to think. I had run all the way to the other side of B block which was almost a mile away from where I was previously. I approached a well-lit archway, and entered the room on the other side.
I was in the grand hall. It was a formal room for banquet to accommodate visiting dignitaries. While running through the grand hall, the wall beside me suddenly broke open, and again I was knocked to the ground. Standing in front of me was “X” with his hideous and horrific stature looming over me.
9 Responses to Zombie Story