Read Online The Fall: Victim Zero by Joshua Guess - Free Book Online
Authors: Joshua Guess
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hand and fired again, this time sending a round through the bridge of the obese man's nose.
The noise drew the attention of the remaining two zombies, but Jameson stepped up and fired in a practiced way as they turned from their meal to locate the source of the sound. The agent scanned the area for more attackers and saw several ungainly forms moving up the street toward them.
“Come on,” the agent said. “If we hustle we can get ahead of them.”
Kell nodded in agreement and followed behind as the other man took off at a fast jog. Blood fell in heavy drops from the injured hand still wrapped around the pistol.
Chapter Seven
Kell leaned against the window of their stolen car. Jameson, like something out of a movie, had demanded the use of a vehicle from a motorist at a stoplight a few hundred yards from the crash. The driver, panicked at the sight of two bloodied men holding firearms, peeled out and ran the light.
They had then made their way to a gas station where Jameson leveled his pistol at a man filling his Mazda. That gentleman had been happy to hand over the keys, and as they pulled away Kell looked over his shoulder to see the carjacked citizen talking animatedly on his cell phone.
“ Hope you can get us back to the lab before the cops find us,” Kell said.
Jameson was trying to call Jones for the hundredth time, and swore as he tossed the phone on the dash. “Goddamn cell networks are overloaded. Probably all the emergency calls going out,” he said. “And I wouldn't worry about the cops. They're having a busy day. We'll be low on the priority list.”
Leaning his head against the window, Kell felt empty. His mind veered away from the last half hour like water around a stone. The space of time just wasn't there for him, but his anger bent around it anyway. Jameson filled the silence with constant chatter and cursing as he tried to call Jones again and again.
The sensation in his left arm began to come back. Slowly, at first, and with the uncomfortable but painless pins-and-needles of a limb gone to sleep. The process picked up steam and a healthy dose of revenge after a minute or so, and turned into knives-and-pitchforks. Kell gritted his teeth against the pain but couldn't help letting out a strangled yelp.
Jameson glanced at him as he cradled that burning arm with his bloody right hand, pistol still held in a white-knuckle grip. The agent winced in sympathy. “I've been there, man. Probably got hit in the nerve cluster in your shoulder,” he said. “You might want to set that gun somewhere, though. I don't want you to accidentally shoot me while I'm driving.”
“ I know what I'm doing,” Kell spat though a pained grimace.
“ Yeah, I saw that when you missed your target from three feet away and managed to shoot an old woman in the head.”
“ She was already dead,” Kell said without much conviction.
“ Yeah. Lot of that going around today.”
The drive to the lab was uneventful. No police chase, no more run-ins with the undead (though Kell imagined that would be unavoidable very soon) and not even a heavy load of traffic, though it was rush hour. The parking lot at Sinclair buzzed with activity. There were ambulances, a collection of different funeral vehicles, more giant, shiny black government SUVs running idle, and even two large military Humvees. Clearly word had spread about the morning's events.
“Doc, you need to have that hand looked at,” Jameson said. Now that they had arrived, he didn't matter any longer. Kell ignored him and walked into the building. People stared at him, but he ignored them as well. One man, obviously one of Jones's agents, even tried to stop him. Kell stared the man down before pushing past him and into the elevator.
The main floor housing Kell's office was empty. Empty as he had never seen it. All the equipment, computers, and files were gone. A worker hauled a plastic bin full of papers into the elevator as Kell stepped out of it, leaving him
The noise drew the attention of the remaining two zombies, but Jameson stepped up and fired in a practiced way as they turned from their meal to locate the source of the sound. The agent scanned the area for more attackers and saw several ungainly forms moving up the street toward them.
“Come on,” the agent said. “If we hustle we can get ahead of them.”
Kell nodded in agreement and followed behind as the other man took off at a fast jog. Blood fell in heavy drops from the injured hand still wrapped around the pistol.
Chapter Seven
Kell leaned against the window of their stolen car. Jameson, like something out of a movie, had demanded the use of a vehicle from a motorist at a stoplight a few hundred yards from the crash. The driver, panicked at the sight of two bloodied men holding firearms, peeled out and ran the light.
They had then made their way to a gas station where Jameson leveled his pistol at a man filling his Mazda. That gentleman had been happy to hand over the keys, and as they pulled away Kell looked over his shoulder to see the carjacked citizen talking animatedly on his cell phone.
“ Hope you can get us back to the lab before the cops find us,” Kell said.
Jameson was trying to call Jones for the hundredth time, and swore as he tossed the phone on the dash. “Goddamn cell networks are overloaded. Probably all the emergency calls going out,” he said. “And I wouldn't worry about the cops. They're having a busy day. We'll be low on the priority list.”
Leaning his head against the window, Kell felt empty. His mind veered away from the last half hour like water around a stone. The space of time just wasn't there for him, but his anger bent around it anyway. Jameson filled the silence with constant chatter and cursing as he tried to call Jones again and again.
The sensation in his left arm began to come back. Slowly, at first, and with the uncomfortable but painless pins-and-needles of a limb gone to sleep. The process picked up steam and a healthy dose of revenge after a minute or so, and turned into knives-and-pitchforks. Kell gritted his teeth against the pain but couldn't help letting out a strangled yelp.
Jameson glanced at him as he cradled that burning arm with his bloody right hand, pistol still held in a white-knuckle grip. The agent winced in sympathy. “I've been there, man. Probably got hit in the nerve cluster in your shoulder,” he said. “You might want to set that gun somewhere, though. I don't want you to accidentally shoot me while I'm driving.”
“ I know what I'm doing,” Kell spat though a pained grimace.
“ Yeah, I saw that when you missed your target from three feet away and managed to shoot an old woman in the head.”
“ She was already dead,” Kell said without much conviction.
“ Yeah. Lot of that going around today.”
The drive to the lab was uneventful. No police chase, no more run-ins with the undead (though Kell imagined that would be unavoidable very soon) and not even a heavy load of traffic, though it was rush hour. The parking lot at Sinclair buzzed with activity. There were ambulances, a collection of different funeral vehicles, more giant, shiny black government SUVs running idle, and even two large military Humvees. Clearly word had spread about the morning's events.
“Doc, you need to have that hand looked at,” Jameson said. Now that they had arrived, he didn't matter any longer. Kell ignored him and walked into the building. People stared at him, but he ignored them as well. One man, obviously one of Jones's agents, even tried to stop him. Kell stared the man down before pushing past him and into the elevator.
The main floor housing Kell's office was empty. Empty as he had never seen it. All the equipment, computers, and files were gone. A worker hauled a plastic bin full of papers into the elevator as Kell stepped out of it, leaving him
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