ASYLUM: Prolog

                    NEW BOOK COMING SOON TO ZOMBIEFICTION AND OTHER TALES!

 Titled, ASYLUM, it follows the exploits and struggles of a construction worker caught up in the horrific events of an uncertain future. Follow as he struggles to survive and create a life with those around him. Read the Prolog now!

Prolog

   Someone was screaming back the way I had come from. I turned around and pointed my carbine back down the long concrete tunnel as I sucked in air. How far I was from the screams was difficult to estimate; the concrete tunnels of The Facility carried sound a long way. I was drenched in sweat and my right leg was wet from the blood still dripping from Debra’s injury. No movement behind me, so I shifted Debra’s weight on my shoulders in an attempt to get a solid weld between the carbine and my shoulder; it wasn’t going to happen. We needed somewhere to stop, so I could check her vitals and maybe revive her. Hopefully, I could get her conscious. Hopefully, she wasn’t dead. Where though? It had to be somewhere I could safely secure the location, or at least somewhere out of the way, somewhere the…the…whatever they were, wouldn’t find us for a while. A working phone would be nice, then I could call External Security and maybe get us a ride back to Phase One. We might be safe there, at least for a little while until a plan could be developed. Where?

   I turned and began walking as fast as I could. I had my left arm between Debra’s legs squeezing her left leg to my chest while I gripped her left arm draped over my right shoulder with my hand; a modified fireman’s carry. It left my right hand free to hold my bullpup. Where to? Where to? I had to get her safe. Wait, the utility access tunnels. Most people don’t even think of those; if I could get us inside one, we’d be home free, maybe. Okay, we’re in Phase Four Level Two, I was going to need to find an access door, I had my maintenance keys, so locked utility doors were not going to be a problem. I just need to remember where they are. If we were in Phase Six, I’d know where to go without any problem. I worked on Phase Six for seven months while it was under construction and knew every level and room it contained. I knew how to basically get around the rest of The Facility, but over three million square feet was a lot to remember.

   Another scream behind us, no, not a scream, a primal roar. Closer than before, much closer. I turned again and walked awkwardly backwards as I held the carbine out in front of me. My legs were trembling and the lightweight carbine I carried seemed heavier than it should. Debra moaned and slightly shifted her position; at least she was still alive. She wasn’t going to be though if I didn’t find safety. Another backward step as I heard the slap of feet coming down one of the side tunnels. Then, there he was, one of the crazies that were murdering everyone they could find in The Facility. Shit, I fired a round one-handed and didn’t even see where it impacted, because at the same moment Debra began to struggle to free herself. With my balance completely shot, I stumbled into the wall beside us and clumsily fell. Debra was still trying to break free of my control; she was panicking as she tried to fully regain her awareness. I released my hold and allowed her to fall away while I tried to get the carbine up with a proper grip, but too late, he was on me.

   I released my grip on the carbine after he grabbed it, but my sling tied me to the weapon as the crazy tried to rip it away. He was strong, and ended up spinning me around while I tried to get my feet under me. The muzzle brake hit my eyebrow and I began to see fireflies in my vision. I reached to the left side of my chest and pulled out the dagger that was mounted there, then I stabbed the double edged blade into the man’s inner thigh; I was hoping for a slashed femoral artery, but he just screamed in my face, released the bullpup, and wrapped his hands around my throat. Within seconds, my vision began to dim as I repeatedly punched the blade into the side of his chest and abdomen, but all he did was tighten his stranglehold. As I was blacking out, he slumped forward and fell across my chest. With my ears ringing loudly, I lay there a moment gasping for air before I managed to push him off and scramble away from him. Pulling the bullpup back to my shoulder, I swung it up as I heard more screams of rage coming down the tunnel.

   Glancing at Debra, I saw she had sat up, but was now slowly sliding back down to the floor. Her Glock was held loosely in her right hand and when I looked at the maniac who had been successfully strangling me, I saw the neat round hole through the side of his head; Debra had shot him, that was why my ears were ringing so loudly. Reaching out, I removed the gun from her hand and slipped it back into her holster where I secured it and then picked her back up in order to continue our hoped-for escape.

   Ahead, I saw the yellow metal sign that indicated a utility corridor, speeding up, I jogged forward until I reached the metal door. I lowered Debra down as gently as I could, then reached to my beltline and grabbed my keyring. Flipping through them, I located the master key for the utility doors in Phase Four. Slipping the key in and twisting the lock, I pulled the door open and then I used the door stop to hold it as I grabbed Debra’s shirt collar and dragged her through. As soon as her feet were clear, I used the toe of my boot to flick up the doorstop and pulled the door quickly shut. Turning, I dropped to the floor and leaned against the concrete wall as my breathing began to catch up.

    “Where are we?”

   I looked at her and then slid to her side and helped her to sit up. “Phase Four, Level Two, utility access corridor; we’re safe for the moment.”

    “Your eyebrow is bleeding.”

   I swiped my hand over it and then looked at it, “Yeah, but nowhere near as bad as yours.” I reached down and opened my IFAK, from inside I removed a roll of gauze, a tube of triple antibiotic cream, a gauze pad, and several alcohol wipes. I started wiping the blood out of her eye and then used a wipe to clean the nasty cut. Once cleaned, I squeezed a bead of ointment into the wound and then folded the gauze pad and placed it over her eyebrow, “Here, hold this while I wrap it up.”

   “Ow.”

   “Sorry, okay, now hold here.” She held the end of the strip of gauze I had wrapped around her head while I cut a piece of surgical tape and pressed it into place. “There, I think it’s good to go. How are you feeling?” A great deal of blood had run down into her hair as I carried her and now it was a sticky, coagulating mass.

   “Like shit.” She pulled her pistol from the holster and did a chamber check to make sure it was loaded before she put the pistol back. Looking at me she asked, “Dan, why didn’t you use your sidearm instead of the knife?”

   “Uh, I gave it to Marie.” She stared at me blankly, the look she would get when she was disappointed in me. “I brought your Glock stock and your spare 33 round mags.” I hurriedly added. Reaching to my duty belt, I unclipped the stock and placed it in her hands, then I pulled the bandoleer for her mags off over my head and set them on her lap. She ejected the standard magazine from her Glock, put it in her cargo pants front pocket and then slipped a thirty-three-round mag into her weapon. Picking up the stock, she inserted the mounting prong into the receptacle in the grip of the pistol and locked it in place with a sigh. She loved the stock and the long stick mags. With the stock on the Glock, the handgun was an extremely short and wieldy weapon and she could be sudden death with it. I have never seen her miss, even out to a hundred yards and farther.

   She shook her head, then rested her head on the palm of her hand as she raised her knee to support her elbow. “How the hell did we end up in this shit?”

   “Which shit are you talking about?”