The Arklay Outbreak

Chapter Twenty-Eight

In his years as a police officer, Ken Sullivan had never truly been scared. He had engaged in violent gunfights, rode along in dangerous car chases, and snuck into criminals’ houses, each time knowing that there existed the possibility of being hurt or killed. Being a police officer, especially a member of a special team like S.T.A.R.S., was always a dangerous occupation. But Ken had never really been scared; each time he was placed in a hostile situation, he was energized by adrenaline. Instead of fear, he felt overwhelmed by excitement.

But not this time. When going up against regular criminals, he knew the dangers he faced, he understood the risks he took, and he felt confident his training and instincts could get him out without a scratch. He knew all the proper procedures and methods for dealing with criminals, and used his experience to accurately estimate what a given criminal might attempt in a given situation. He minimized his fear by knowing all the variables.

But this time, none of that meant anything. His instincts told him that if he shot a suspect three times in the chest, the suspect would go down. His training told him that people did not come back from the dead. In this place, his training was wrong, and his instincts were useless. It was impossible to stay in control of the situation when he didn’t even know what he was up against. What terrified him most was that he didn’t know what to be afraid of.

When he and Forest found the mansion, they debated whether or not to even enter the place. They were trying to find the train, after all. But there was blood on the ground outside and they kept hearing noises. Ken desperately wished they had chosen to stay outside.

As soon as they came inside, they fell under attack. Two men came at them, staggering toward them and moaning incoherently. Ken tried to call them off, but it was no use. They weren’t carrying anything that looked like a weapon, but the frightening look on their pale faces somehow told Ken that his life was in immediate danger. He and Forest practically had to empty their guns before the men went down and stayed there. If their lab coats were any indication, the men were either scientists or doctors. But there was no indication at all what was wrong with them, or why they attacked Ken and Forest, or how they were somehow able to keep coming when they’d been shot a dozen times each.

And then they found the dogs. Or they found animals that looked like they may have once been dogs. Now, they were bloodthirsty monsters out of a horror story. Their skin oozed off their flesh like half-melted plastic, their eyes shone brilliant red, they moved faster than any normal dog could possibly move, and like the scientists or doctors or whatever they were, it took half a clip to even slow them down.

Now Ken was down to five rounds and Forest was nowhere to be found. He ran off when the dogs attacked and Ken was too scared to go looking for him. Even now, Ken didn’t know where he was in the mansion; he ran in a blind panic and got himself turned around. The place was like a maze built by a blind architect; the hallways went every direction, rooms seemed situated in no particular order, and Ken sincerely doubted that he could find his way back outside without a map and a compass.

He had encountered another maniac in a lab coat and got lucky, shooting him in the face and blowing the top of his head off, dropping him in one shot. The corpse now lay out in the hallway beyond the room where Ken was hiding. He was safe for the moment, but there was no door to prevent anything from coming in after him. It wasn’t even a room, it was more like a small lounge at the end of the hallway. There was only one entrance but no exit. The small window letting in creepy moonlight was too narrow for him to squeeze through, so he was stuck there until he built up the nerve to leave, which he doubted would happen any time soon. His heart was beating so fast and hard it made his chest hurt, and he desperately tried to slow his loud, rapid breathing. He crawled into the corner of the room, partially hiding behind a small end table, and held his gun like a sacred talisman to ward off evil.

He spoke into his walkie-talkie in a nervous, high-pitched voice that he fought to keep level. “Enrico? Are you there?”

“I’m here, Ken. I can see the mansion.”

Ken fought off a crazy urge to beg Enrico not to go inside. “Be careful, man, be careful. I know those dogs are outside too.”

A few seconds passed. “Where are you in the mansion, Ken?”

“I don’t know, boss. I’m in this little side room at the end of a hallway.” He took a wild guess. “South side of the building.”

“I see someone through a window.”

Ken clutched his walkie-talkie harder, his heart skipping a beat. “It’s another one of those things, boss!” he said urgently. “Don’t let it see you!”

“It can’t see me. I’m going inside now through a glass door at the rear. Is that the same door you entered from?”

“Yes, I think so,” Ken whispered.

Another few seconds passed.

And then, a distant, muted noise from somewhere else in the mansion that might have been a scream. Four muffled thuds that were almost certainly gunshots. And then silence again.

Ken pushed his back harder into the wall. The walkie-talkie slipped from his fingers and he held both his hands against his mouth to stifle the terrified sobs that came out.

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