The western horizon was bathed in a golden hue, signaling the end of today’s work. The survivors lined up in the maintenance room, carrying tools and materials unused during the day.
Marco counted the quantity and inspected the quality. The stink of sweat vexed him but he endured it until every survivor was examined.
The hard work emptied their stomachs, growling under the scent of food that wafted from the kitchen. Elena, together with a female assistant, ladled out onion soup into a small bowl, and served a plate of meat, vegetables, and rice to the starved survivors.
They gathered at the dining area, in front of the kitchen and behind the reception.
The soldiers observed on the sides, indifferent to the tempting aroma. They listened in on the whispers of the survivors—chattering about their work, life before the apocalypse, or random topics to relieve themselves from boredom.
This continued until their spoons scooped no more. They washed the plates and returned to their beds, cramping inside the dormitory-style units of the second floor.
A lone conscript hung around the stairwell, his gaze fixed at the lifeless wall. He yawned, eyes drooping almost to a close.
He stretched his stiff limbs and paced corner to corner. Silence ensued across the corridor, undisturbed by his ordered march. Everything was in place. Satisfied, he went downstairs, catching up with a pair of conscripts who were in patrol.
At that moment, a door on the second floor creaked open. A head peeked out, scanning the hallway from left to right. After a brief hesitation, the figure slipped out, shut the door, and then crept into the corridor, moving toward the stairwell.
Chatters drifted in the distance, their voices fading along the spacious first floor.
The figure dashed from cover to cover, evading the patrolling conscripts under the dim lights. Reaching the maintenance room, they slowly turned the knob and pushed the metallic door open.
A smile crept across his face as he stepped inside with great familiarity. The door shut behind him, followed by a soft click.
A cold muzzle pressed against the back of his head.
"Raise your hands."
The voice was calm and cold. His body shivered, the threat of a gun shrinking in.
"Please don’t hurt me," he pleaded, "I..."
"Move."
The gun jabbed into his head, forcing him forward. They moved deeper into the maintenance room and stopped at its center.
A grayish metal chair sat there. Ropes dangled around, with a few rolls of tapes laid out on a table to the sides.
Before he could react, two more soldiers stepped out and seized his hands, placing them behind his back.
He helplessly watched being dragged into the chair, the ropes circling on his arms and legs.
No wonder the security had felt slack. No wonder that conscript guarding the second floor wandered down for a chatter. It was all a ploy to capture him, and now, there he was.
Once the restraints were secured, the two soldiers stepped back.
Taking their place was a person wearing black stealth fatigues, eyes looking down on him with cold indifference. It was no other than Adrian, one of Hans’s scouts.
"You sure took your time sneaking around."
"Sir, I—"
Adrian grabbed his combat knife and slowly slithered the blade across the figure’s neck.
"I ask the questions, you will answer them. Very simple, right?"
"Yes..."
"Great start," Adrian grinned, "Now, what is your purpose of doing this and do you have any accomplices?"
Feeling the blade pressing deeper on his neck, the thief gulped before he answered.
"I—I wasn’t stealing, I was... preparing."
Adrian was startled, "Your words interest me. Preparing for what? What does stealing a few tools and supplies do to you?"
"Gearing myself for this-!"
Adrian flicked the blade, grazing the thief’s cheek. Blood sprayed into the floor, the smell of rust permeating in the air.
"Ah—I don’t really know! Someone told me I’d have to prepare, and they’ll come here soon!"
The thief panicked, speaking words he should not have spoken. Adrian didn’t let it slip and pushed harder.
"Surely there’s more where that came from now, buddy?" he flicked the knife again, scarring the other cheek.
"I... I really don’t know sir! Please spare me!"
Adrian chuckled, "You think I’d spare you after knowing all of that?!"
"You-!" the thief snapped, "You think this area is safe? You think your guns can save you?! You-you don’t know shit!"
He gritted his teeth, saliva pouring out of his mouth.
"Time will come, and it will tell you what I mean. Kill me! You will never get anything out of me!"
The thief’s hands and feet moved around, trying to loosen the restraints. Sweat poured like a tide on his body, feeling his heart rate jumping past the critical line.
His eyes turned bloodied as his face twisted into an abomination. The muscles and nerves had bulged to the extreme, turning his low roars that of a monster.
Adrian sensed the abnormality and stepped back, pulling his pistol into his hands. He aimed at the head and pulled the trigger, firing until the magazine was emptied.
"Not dead yet?!"
He leaped back and switched to his MP7A1, "Everyone, fire! Don’t let him transform!"
Countless guns barraged the thief, sieving him with bullets. Dark blood poured like a fountain, dripping the floor wet.
An unhinged smell wafted from the wounds, making a frown out of everyone else.
Meanwhile, the thief groaned in pain, the damage paralyzing him. The stiff body lost balance, stepping backward in an attempt to remain standing. A small thread of life remained, the thief’s eyes staring at Adrian and the rest.
His mouth convulsed, cursing these people to hell.
"You... will... regret this—arrggghhhhhh!"
It gurgled on its dark blood, eyes wide open, holding its head high. The corpse thumped loudly on the floor, cracking the area it landed upon.
The swelling muscles died out, deflating like a balloon. The body shriveled like a plant dried out of water, the stretch marks looking no different from a sight of undulating waves.
Adrian took a deep breath, calming his taut nerves. If he hadn’t acted promptly during the sudden transformation, everyone in the room would have been in great danger.
"This isn’t no simple transformation. It was a suicide trigger!"
He clicked his tongue and shook his head. His eyes scanned the corpse, cringing on its grotesque body irregularly shaped in many places.
"This corpse stinks." Adrian jerked his face to the sides, fanning the air in front of him.
There’s a conspiracy behind this.
He thought, applauding this thief of his meticulous preparation. Though these plans still fell short in the end, having the transformation as a failsafe almost proved to be a success.
He pointed toward the two conscripts and an army soldier, "You, you, and you, check its body. He might have something on him we don’t know yet."
The soldiers gritted their teeth but could only follow. They took a deep breath, forcing themselves to stomach the unholy corpse before them.
Footsteps suddenly echoed outside the room, drawing Adrian’s attention. The metallic door swung open as Conscripts and Army Soldiers rushed in.
"Sir, what happened? We heard gunfire from this area!" Ryan snapped in place, saluting.
"Something serious." Adrian replied, "All of you, move out and pacify the survivors. Tell them a few zombies broke in from the underground through the sewers."
"Yes sir!" Ryan and the other soldiers responded, dashing out of the maintenance room toward the upper floors.
Dmitri arrived moments later, keeping himself out of sight. He nodded to Adrian then lowered his gaze to the corpse.
He grimly studied the half-transformed human—no, a monster, riddled with bullets, finding the scene a little familiar.
"How did this thing... came out to be?" Dmitri asked.
"Well, our suspect started screaming and became sweaty after my sweet words." Adrian shrugged, "Said he’s part of something he doesn’t even know. I don’t believe anybody would be that stupid."
"You will be surprised to see that your opinions are sometimes wrong," Dmitri retorted, "Did he consume anything? Pills, medicines, drinks?"
"I don’t think it was that." Adrian contemplated, recalling information about the thief, "The soldiers who were part of this operation reported he was as normal as any other survivors. The only suspicious thing was his knack for stealing supplies behind our backs."
"Then shall we have the nurse inspect him?" Dmitri suggested.
"That sounds great, but we should do it tomorrow." Adrian chuckled. It was already deep in the night and it would be inappropriate to have Lira overwork herself to death.
Nurses did have unfavorable schedules before, but that should be put to end now that the world has changed.
"How about the Commander? What should we report to him?" Adrian added.
"Conduct an investigation first, then inform the Commander once we have enough information." Dmitri declared, writing notes on his wrist pad, "I’ll interrogate the survivors. You examine this room and check for anything out of place."
"Fine by me, but the Commander might be displeased." Adrian worried.
"I’ll tell the Commander that we are conducting a preliminary investigation." Dmitri coughed, "The results will be delivered to him soon," he paused, tilting his head to Adrian, "Don’t be late with your report."
Dmitri walked out of the room, his back facing Adrian’s startled figure.
"Oh well, I guess I have no choice then."
He knuckled his hands and shook his arms and legs. The two conscripts assigned for guard duty at the maintenance room closed the door, preventing unauthorized entry.
"You over there, come to me." Adrian gestured, "Grab a flashlight. Let’s start from here."
The two traced the movement that Adrian and the thief had traversed earlier, searching for an answer over a stunning half-revelation.
This place wasn’t safe?
Their guns were useless?
Time will tell?
Who else was out there aside from humans and zombies?
These questions swirled in Adrian’s mind, disturbing his thought process during the ill-timed investigation.