Stage 3: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller by Stark Ken

Author:Stark, Ken [Stark, Ken]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Infected
Publisher: Severed Press
Published: 2016-03-13T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XXI

By now, Mason had become quite adept at the discreet removal of manhole covers.

Once Mackenzie moved aside to give him room to work, he hoisted one edge of the cover an inch or two to assess the situation, then slid the cover back along the roadway, one slow inch at a time. At last, he tucked his phone away, secured his pack over his shoulder, and climbed out.

It wasn't hard to know where they were. This was a quiet side street, but even in a world turned upside down, Market Street was impossible to miss. He could make out that renowned thoroughfare just past a sprawling Texaco station at the end of the block. Referring to the map of the city in his head, he triangulated his position as being between Highway 80 and the 101, which would put them somewhere in the Mid-Market area. Not bad, Mason considered. Not counting the sideways diversion to the hospital, he and Mack had covered something close to five miles via their own personal subway. If his internal map was accurate, the park with the funny dogs was no more than three miles away. Mostly south and a little bit west.

He clicked his cheek, and Mackenzie popped out of the manhole. She made not a sound as she accepted Mason's hand and let him help her to her feet. Several long moments later, Walker's head appeared and hovered just above ground level.

Now that he saw him in the full light of day, Mason had to hold back a gasp at the sight. The man's flesh had turned as white as snow, his clothes were literally dripping with sweat, and his hair was plastered to his scalp as if he'd just climbed out of a swimming pool. But it was his eyes that unnerved Mason most. Holy christ, the eyes! The pupils had retracted into pinpoints, and the rest was the color of blood. One look at those eyes, and Mason thought the man might shy away from the light like a mole, but the doctor continued to rise laboriously, rung by rung, laying a shaking hand on the lip of the hole, and heaved himself up one more rung. At that point, the life seemed to drain out of him, and he hung there in mid-air as if deciding whether to continue up or drop back down to the sewer. Despite his feelings toward the man, Mason came around the doctor's back, slipped his hands under the his arms, and lifted him the rest of the way out.

And then they stood there, one catching his breath and the other surreptitiously wiping his hands on his jeans and scanning the entire perimeter.

Mason quickly realized that escaping the inner city was the best thing they could have done. They weren't out of the woods by any stretch, but at least the swarms would be thinner here. And yet, there was something about the very sparseness of the swarm that brought the horror closer to home.

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