Chapter Two: TARFU[]
Sergeant Jeremy Rico was already out the door with Richards. Hiddleston looked back at the hall towards floor one. MacInnes listened above to the screams and shots from upstairs, along with the tremor-causing gunfire downstairs. He informed Burnside to remain put with the Doctor. MacInnes attempted to contact the supervisor. "Walsh, what the hell is going on?" There was silence. MacInnes cleared the door with Hiddleston, and called Rico.
"Rico, location?"
"Down the stairs. On our way to the lobby. Clear," Rico responded.
"I'm taking Hiddleston upstairs. Over." Hiddleston and MacInnes took the west hall from the laboratory and took the same flight of stairs as Fireteam Four did. They were in the process of sprinting up the stairway and making their way to the door when MacInnes had made an observation. The shots had already stopped. It was silent. He slung his SIG over his shoulder, and removed his Mossberg 500. He and Hiddleston stood on both sides of the door, and MacInnes gave the "countdown" symbol with his hands. Hiddleston gripped the door handle for MacInnes to breach. MacInnes began lowering his fingers one by one.
Hiddleston listened to the chaos two floors down. It was silent up here. MacInnes' index finger lowered on the Mossberg's pump. The middle finger lowered, and Hiddleston gripped the door tighter. The ring finger rested against the pump.
What happens if they're right behind the door?
Rico broke the silence. "MacInnes! We got shit!"
MacInnes stuttered: "Say again, Rico?"
"IN. SHIT!" Gunfire was heard over the radio.
"Open it." MacInnes orders.
In the dark
The door creaked open and MacInnes stepped inside, shotgun aimed down the hall. Hiddleston followed, trailing his MP5 down each corner. MacInnes looked ahead to the body of a SWAT officer, dead on the ground. Glass is shattered across him. They stepped further down the hall, Hiddleston noticed the ricochet rounds on the wall and busted doors farther down the hall. Blood is splattered across the floors, but aside from a single body, the hallway is clear.
A door was heard creaking open. MacInnes pressed his shotgun against his shoulder, as a pale figure in a white gown stepped out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him. His face was turned, obscured from their line of sight, and he appeared to have several flesh wounds across his arms. As they looked lower, they noticed he was trailing blood on his feet. MacInnes called out "Stop where you are, get on the ground. SWAT!"
The man only stood still. His head turned, revealing his yellow casted eyes, crusted. His mouth appeared to be dried on, but from a distance, little could be made out. That was, until he started screaming, waving his arms in the air towards them. MacInnes was ready to squeeze the trigger, but it was a second gunshot, from a handgun, that ended the man's life. Stepping out of an opening to the right were two SWAT officers, who called out to MacInnes.
"Identify!" one of them said.
"Lieutenant MacInnes, Fireteam Six! You?" MacInnes responded.
"Lieutenant Wilson. Fireteam Four. This is Officer Camano. Both fireteams got ambushed by these things... We took cover in here...then it stopped."
MacInnes takes a few steps towards the body. He inspects the face of the man, with the yellow casted eyes, dripping out pus from the sockets. His mouth is crusty with an unknown substance, but it appears to be gangreen. His mouth is definitely infected, his gums green. "These guys... can take God knows how many rounds...." Wilson tells MacInnes while the latter inspects the body.
These momentary distractions of an unusual scenario keep them from focusing on their surroundings which is why Officer Camano is so easily snuck up from behind and pulled off into a room. Hiddleston and Wilson chase after him down the hall, while MacInnes is still distracted by the body. Officer Camano's screams can be heard echoing down the hall, and Hiddleston jogs with his SMG shoved hard against his shoulder, his eye down the rail and through the Reflex sight. He turned the corner of the hallway and watched Camano get dragged into a room by three patients. He pulled the trigger aiming down at one's head, and ended the patient's life with a burst of 5.56mm rounds directed at the throat. Wilson took after him quickly, rushing into the line of fire and breaking into the room, while Hiddleston tried to keep up. Wilson busted down the door and didn't take any time to aim before rapidly firing his gun. By the time Hiddleston had reached the room, Wilson had emptied his clip. As Hiddleston stepped inside the entrance, he looked at the mess of fatally injured patients, all with several wounds, dying on the floor, struggling to get back up. He and Wilson both looked at Camano, who was already stripped and opened up. His guts were splayed over his exposed stomach, and he had already died. The patients were quick. Hiddleston stepped over the bodies and examined them. They were still alive and kicking, despite having several bullets lodged in their lungs and throats. He began to fire single shots into their heads, where Wilson reloaded and joined in.
Sergeant Rico and Officer Richards had made it down the stairs where three officers were firing down a hall. They reached the bottom when a patient came from behind and snapped the neck of one of the officers. It took his gun and killed the second. The third officer fired a shot into its head, while Rico covered the officer with his rifle. Officer Richards turned to face a man running at them both with a syringe. The man screamed "I'm here to help you! I'm here to give you all what you need!"
The man tackled Richards, trying to drive the syringe into his throat. The man's eyes were bloodshot and bleeding, focused and intense on Richards, who was struggling while the syringe got inches closer to his throat. Rico swung his SIG like a club at the man, and swung the stock of the gun into the man's face until it collapsed on itself. The officer was grabbing clips from the dead police. Rico asked the officer "Where's the rest of the cops?"
The officer answered, "They ran off. The rest are the five you see here."
"How many?" Richards asked.
"There were eleven of us. Five more ran off in different directions. They probably fared no better."
"We go looking for them," Rico told them.
"I ain't going nowhere man!" the officer responded.
Richard asked, "Why don't we get out the staff entrance?"
"They locked up the entrance once we got inside. You wanna try and chew through a six-inch steel door, be my guest. That was when all hell broke loose," the officer answered.
"You're welcome to go upstairs with the rest of my team, alone. Richards and I are looking for your buddies. Chances are though, they're gonna ambush again," Rico explained.
"Nah, man, I'm going with you," the officer told them, while he followed them down the hall. Rico aimed his rifle down the hall, slowly stepping on each tile. The step of each boot made a rough, hard sound every time he pressed his foot down. He turned the corner of the hallway and Richards had swung wide around, staring his UMP straight at the end of the corridor. The officer followed behind them, every once in awhile turning his head to look at their rear. Rico made the "halt" signal with his hand, and moved up quickly towards the end of the hall. He didn't bother checking any of the doors to his left or right, where Richards had to stay put to cover him. The officer was focused down the hall and noticed a door creaking open in the middle. All three of them focused on the door, when Rico saw the advancing shadow on the officer.
He tried to speak, he really did. He tried to warn the officer. Yelling. Shooting back. But he was silenced when the door to his right flung open. He turned his head to the screaming, and a pale, bloodied hand reached towards him. He felt a sharp pain in his hip. Instinctively, he pulled his rifle up and fired automatic rounds at point blank, right in the head of whatever attacked him. He was firing his gun with one hand, flinching, and grabbing his side with the other. He lost control of his rifle and fell to the ground, looking at his hip to see a protruding shard of glass.
In those five seconds, a second being grabbed the officer and stabbed a syringe into his throat. Richards noticed the yellow liquid had been fully injected into the officer by the time he turned around, and fired his UMP right into the patient's face. Immediately, he noticed that this patient seemed different from the others. Its white eyes glistened and its face was in a rapid state of decomposition, the cheeks decaying and displaying infected gums. when he finished firing, however, there was no face to look at. He tried to help the officer, who was already entering cardiac arrest and convulsing. he removed the syringe and attempted to apply pressure, but soon the officer gave in. He stopped thrashing. Richards wasted no time and ran to Rico's aid, who was struggling to remove the glass shard from his thigh. Rather crudely, Rico ripped the shard out, twisting flesh and ripping more skin off, causing heavier bleeding. "Fucking hell, man!"
"Shut up and stop moving!" Richards yells. He takes Rico's bowie knife and tears off one sleeve of his uniform with the knife. He wipes the blood off around the area and removes his canteen, pouring whiskey onto the wound. Rico screams, but starts to laugh amidst the pain. "You're not supposed to have that shit on duty..." he tells Richards.
"Yeah, well maybe I should lay off the pot too.\," Richards mumbles.
"How the hell have you stayed a cop?" Rico growls.
Richards doesn't answer, throwing Rico's arm over his shoulder. Rico grunts and growls, and they turn back towards the corridor. The door opens, and an officer's body falls out, stabbed in the back with two syringes. Richards drags Rico towards the open door, UMP pressed against his shoulder, and he peeks around the corner, SMG drawn. He sees three more officers in stages of dismemberment, and hears a sloshing noise. He sets Rico down, who quietly grunts. Richards stealthily walks inside the room, aiming down the office corner waiting to turn. He steps in a puddle of blood, which makes a dampened, quiet splish, and the sloshing stops. He peeks around the corner and is pushed down against the wall. A humanoid creature, its teeth bare and rotting, tries to get its jaws around his throat while holding him down. Its skin is black and rotted, its eyes a bright white. He tries to get his knife out, but can't take his hands away from its head, which is trying to force itself onto him.
Richards pushes the creature back, trying to get to the doorway, but is tripped by it. It drags his leg back and he turns over, lifting his knife at the creature, stabbing into the being's arm. It recoils for a short moment, and he struggles to get up. The creature grabs him again, pulling him back, and sliding him across a puddle of blood. He slips trying to push his arms up, and the creature, its arms pushing his shoulders down, bares its jaws on his throat.
Chapter Three: Tango Uniform[]
Two floors up, MacInnes is alone. He swiftly turns, shotgun raised, at every corridor leading to him. He calls for Hiddleston but there is no response. He tries to call open on all channels via the radio. There are no responses. not from Richards, Rico, Burnside, or Hiddleston. He steps towards the direction that Hiddleston went. Mossberg pressed firmly against his shoulder, he walks down the dimly-lit hallway, covering every side. He hears the tapping of feet behind him, and he hides in an office, shutting the door and hiding against it. He listens intently outside to the footsteps getting louder, and louder. He expected a noise afterwards, but there was silence. He turned his head at the room and saw the bodies of two SWAT officers, both ripped open and clean of flesh. He crawled towards them and the wooden door began to split. He turned around and saw the blade of an axe breaking through the wood. He fired rounds from his Glock 17 into the door, but the axe kept busting through. Finally, the door was broken apart for a torn hand to reach inside and unlock the door. MacInnes removed his knife and stabbed the grey-fleshed hand into the wooden door, taking his shotgun and firing into the shoulder of the being. The shoulder simply split apart and the thing fell backwards. He opened the door and removed the axe, bringing it down on the creature's head.
Officer Burnside had locked himself in with the doctor. He had already begun to barricade the doors with file cabinets and tables. The doctor simply sat in an office chair. "You could help, doc." Burnside told the man, to no response. The SWAT commando had enough. He kicked the chair down and slammed the butt of his gun into the Doctor's face. "As far as I'm concerned," Burnside said, "You did this and you're responsible for this shit. I can't contact any of my team."
"Once the security measures are in place, you won't be able to contact anyone outside. As for inside, are you sure your radio isn't dead?" the doctor explained and asked.
"Shit, you might be onto something, then again, why am I getting STATIC?"
"Bad signal?"
"I dunno, you know the building better than I do," Burnside concluded. He left one door, a locked door at the end of the laboratory, unlocked, just in case his team returned. He didn't dare step outside. Instead, he waited. He stared at the wall, just waiting for his team to respond. To knock on the door. To know that's he's not the last guy left inside the building. He wondered why it didn't occur to anyone to leave through the breach that SWAT team four made, if all entrances were locked up when the place went "Red". He checked his watch and sees that the time is 20:37, or 8:37PM. It had gotten late. He wondered how long they've been gone. It's then he heard the mumbling and pattering of multiple people stepping. He hoped it's his team, and moves towards the windows. He muttered "MacInnes? Rico?" The doctor quietly whispered "Shut up." Burnside turned to face the doctor and spoke moderately "What did you say?"
Burnside's collar was yanked back, and he felt a warm slimelike substance splash down his neck. He turned and saw a hand missing two fingers reaching through an exposed window, only covered partway by one of his makeshift barricades. More hands reached in through the exposed openings, and he drew his SMG out. "We are so fucked..." Burnside observed. He began firing into the pale, grey arms reaching towards him, watching the bullets pass through. He observed that they were not bleeding. He started hitting the arms back with the stock of his MP5. One hand dug into his shirt and ripped a sleeve off in trying to pull him in. He struggled with his torn sleeve, Trying to tear it off so he wouldn't be pulled out the window. He tripped, and started to be dragged through the opening when the doctor held his sides and pulled him back in. Burnside got back up and fired into the openings, firing every last shot of the current clip. When he reloaded, he realized he was on his last magazine. He grabbed the three mags from Delisle's body and motioned towards the back door. The doctor followed him, picking up Delisle's Glock. They quietly stepped out the room, trying to avoid the mass of unknown human experimentation that was behind them. They turned the corner of the hall, and Burnside moved right, down the corridor towards the stairs leading to the bottom floor and basement. They reached the end of the corridor and looked down the stairs, where a patient stood, his back turned to them, coagulated blood dripping down his naked, gray body. Glass and bits of metal protruded from his shoulders, down to his thighs, and some shards were embedded in his feet. He held a surgical saw in one hand, and a scalpel in the other. The scalpel was dripping blood. He turned towards them, and the first thing they noticed were that both his eyes were gouged out. They stared at the empty, bloody sockets. The front of his body was covered in lacerations.
They did not make a sound. They both knew he would be able to see them, but he would hear them. He did not move. Burnside steadied his SMG, aiming at the head. He pulled the trigger, firing a burst of five rounds directed at the patient's head. In a split-second, the patient simply dashed to the right and sprinted towards the stairs before the rounds hit the wall. Burnside didn't have time to even steady his gun before the patient was only inches away, saw raised. He and the doctor dodged out of the way, the saw hit the the rail of the stairway, sending sparks everywhere. It raised the saw in the air, ready to bring down on Burnside. Burnside attempted to fire again, rather inaccurately, but at the closer range, had much better results. Four bullets pierced the patient's side, and it recoiled back, Falling off the rail and down the stairs. Burnside had noticed he had dropped the saw when he fell, and it was falling on top of the patient when he hit the bottom. The commando and doctor moved towards the railing and observed that the saw had fallen on top of the Patient's shoulder, slicing off his entire arm. Burnside breathed a sigh of relief, and the doctor kept looking back. Burnside turned around when he heard the Saw rev up again, and returned to the railing.
The Patient began to twitch, moving slightly but quickly, and got back up. His shoulder bled green-brown liquid and he picked the surgical saw back up, walking back up the stairs. Burnside turned back towards the stairs, and saw that the noise had attracted the mob that attacked them in the lab. They had already reached the end of the corridor, and were stumbling and running towards them. Burnside didn't realize that both his weapons were empty before aiming, waiting for the group to reach the middle of the hall.
Written by Scorch933
Content is available under CC BY-SA