The Apocalypse Hive: Episode 1: The Armageddon Thrones: Season 1 by Sam Witt

Author:Sam Witt [Witt, Sam]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pitchfork Publishing
Published: 2016-03-07T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Now

The Sleeper tilts its head to one side like a curious dog. The golden glow from its eyes dims, but I still feel its power thrumming in the air. It stands and stretches its arms overhead. It walks toward us with long, erratic steps. It's in no rush. The corpses under its control have us trapped, and it knows it.

I flip through my collection of mental blueprints, looking for another emergency hatch, or a maintenance tunnel, or anything we can use to get around the Sleeper and its zombie slaves. I feel the Engineer's hand tightening around my fingers.

"What do we do?" She whispers.

There's one chance. It's slim, but it's all I've got. "Is the Core up and running?"

In addition to our unsavory experiments with the Sleepers, the Complex houses a number of high-energy experiments. The lower level holds an atomic accelerator that makes the Large Hadron Collider look like a high school kid's summer science project. The company inherited it and updated it when they took control of the Complex from the government. I'm not supposed to know about it, but I know a lot of things I'm not supposed to know.

The Engineer stares at me. "Of course, but how—"

"We have to get there." I feel the first bits of a plan falling into place. I can't escape the Complex and the Sleepers, but maybe I don't need to. Maybe there's a way we can stop them from getting outside and wreaking havoc on the rest of the world. But we're going to have to get out of this hall first.

The Sleeper reaches the mutilated corpses under its control. They flow around it, pressing up against it. Dead hands caress its smooth, pale skin. Dead tongues lap at its fingertips. The Sleeper smiles and moves toward us along with its horde.

Like the rest of the Complex's corridors, this one's wide enough to accommodate far more employees than necessary. There's room enough for four or five of the little security golf carts to zip up and down these halls at the same time. There's space on either side of the walking dead, but not much.

I squeeze the Engineer's hand and shout, "Run!"

We sprint toward the gap on the left side of the corridor. The Sleeper steers the horde at us, but they're slow and clumsy. It takes time to change their direction and get them moving again. The Sleeper's rage snaps like a cracking whip across my nerves. Its thoughts, dark and alien and desperate, echo through my skull.

I stumble, and the Engineer shoves me from behind, pushing me ahead of her. The gap is closing.

I'm plunging ahead, out of control, my feet slapping the cement as my legs struggle to keep me from falling. My balance is gone. I'm going to trip.

Dead fingers brush against my cheek. The stink of blood and shit is everywhere. My breath catches in my throat. My lungs burn.

A dead hand snags my foot. I'm falling. I'm dead.

The Engineer grabs the back of my shirt and gives me the second I need to catch my balance.

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