Free Web NovelChapter 276: Chapter 275 - To Safety
Malcolm did not let go of her long.
Iyisha’s face was pressed against his chest, her fingers twisted weakly in his shirt, and her whole body shook under the sheet wrapped around her. Her breathing came too fast. Her skin was cold. Blood marked both wrists where the restraints had cut through.
He looked past her.
The dead tank lay across the corridor with half its skull gone. The twitcher he had pulled off her twitched once near the wall, then stopped.
The young doctor stood near the wall with both hands raised. His coat was torn. Blood covered one sleeve. His face had gone gray.
Malcolm lifted the pistol.
Iyisha’s hand tightened on his shirt. It barely moved, but he felt it.
"He..." Her voice scraped out, thin and broken. "Helped me."
Malcolm kept the gun on him. "You do something funny, you die.
The doctor nodded fast. "They left me." He looked around. "I want to live."
Malcolm stepped close to him. "What did you do with her?"
"She’s still sedated and her body’s waking up unevenly. If she moves too fast, she’ll crash."
"Fix it."
"I need the medication from the procedure room."
Malcolm looked back toward the hall they had come from.
Gunfire cracked somewhere beyond Sector Four. A body hit glass. A deeper roar rolled through the walls, and the young doctor flinched so hard his shoulder struck the wall.
"Then we move," Malcolm said.
Iyisha tried to stand when he pulled her up.
Her knees folded.
Malcolm caught her before she hit the floor and hauled her against him. She made a small sound into his chest, then swallowed hard like she was fighting to stay inside her own body.
"I can..." she whispered.
"You can barely breathe."
Her head rolled once against his shoulder. "Malcolm."
"I know."
He wrapped the sheet tighter around her, then took a lab coat from a dead doctor and pulled it over her shoulders. It hung loose around her, but it covered enough. He kept one arm around her waist and the pistol in his other hand.
The young doctor grabbed a fallen rifle, checked it, then looked at Malcolm. "The drug is in sector 2."
They moved out of Sector Four.
The corridor was already breaking apart. Human patients crouched along the walls, some crying, some staring at Malcolm like he had opened the world and ruined it at the same time. A man in a hospital gown crawled toward them with one hand raised.
"Please," he said. "Please take us."
Malcolm did not stop. "Stay behind me if you want to live."
That was enough.
The man crawled faster, then forced himself up and stumbled after them. Two women followed. Another patient limped out from a shattered glass room and pressed close to the wall when something roared deeper behind them.
The young doctor looked back. "The tank subjects are out."
Malcolm dragged Iyisha closer. "How many?"
"I don’t know."
A crash answered him from Sector Four.
Malcolm led them toward Sector Three.
A twitcher came from the left, low to the floor, hands slapping hard against the tile. Malcolm fired once and missed when it jerked sideways. It sprang toward Iyisha’s side. He shoved her behind him, stepped into the leap, and drove the knife under its jaw. The impact pushed him back two steps before the body collapsed.
Iyisha stared at it with glassy eyes.
Her lips parted.
Nothing came out.
Malcolm pulled her on.
Sector Three had turned into a slaughter line. Glass doors stood open. Some rooms were empty. Some still had patients inside, too terrified to move. Soldiers were falling back toward the heavier gates, firing into the released subjects while staff tried to shove carts and stretchers out of the way.
A tank roared somewhere behind the open cells.
The sound made everyone freeze.
Then the wall dented from the other side.
The young doctor grabbed Malcolm’s sleeve. "We need to go. Now."
Malcolm pushed Iyisha ahead of him. "Move."
They ran as much as she could run. Her feet dragged. Twice she almost went down. Each time Malcolm caught her by the waist and kept her moving. The survivors followed in a loose line, stumbling over bodies and broken glass.
At the Sector Three gate, two soldiers were trying to force it closed.
"Hold the line!" one shouted.
Malcolm shot the first through the side of the neck. The second turned, and the young doctor swung the empty rifle into his face. The hit cracked against bone. Malcolm finished him before he hit the floor.
The young doctor stared at the body, shaking.
Malcolm shoved him toward the gate controls. "Open it."
"I don’t know the code."
"Then badge it."
The doctor grabbed the dead soldier’s card with blood-slick fingers and slapped it against the reader.
Red.
A heavy shape hit the corridor behind them.
The survivors screamed.
The doctor tried the card again.
Yellow.
Then green.
The gate rose.
Malcolm shoved everyone through.
Iyisha tripped as they crossed into Sector Two. Malcolm caught her, but her stomach clenched. She bent forward and vomited hard onto the floor.
Her knees hit tile.
Malcolm crouched with her, one hand braced on her back while she shook through it. She tried to breathe and gagged again. Her whole body trembled under the lab coat.
The young doctor knelt on her other side. "She needs the counteragent."
"Where?"
"The room she came from. The procedure room."
Malcolm looked down the Sector Two corridor.
More glass. More open doors. More screaming.
"Lead."
The doctor stood and ran.
Malcolm hauled Iyisha up. "Stay with me."
Her eyes barely focused. "They know."
He stopped.
"What?"
Her hand moved weakly toward her stomach.
Malcolm’s face changed.
For one second, everything in him went still.
Then another crash shook Sector Three behind them, and the gate they had passed started closing on its own. A twitcher hurled itself through the gap before it could seal. Malcolm pushed Iyisha into the wall, stepped forward, and slammed his shoulder into the twitcher’s chest. It clawed at his arm. He drove his knife into its side and shoved it backward as the gate came down.
The twitcher caught halfway through.
Its upper body thrashed inside Sector Two, teeth snapping inches from Malcolm’s face. The gate kept lowering, crushing its ribs with a wet crack. Malcolm planted one boot against its chest and pushed until the body slid back under the closing metal.
The gate slammed shut.
The twitcher’s fingers twitched once on their side of the line, then stilled.
Iyisha stared at Malcolm.
He came back to her fast and cupped the side of her face. "Later."
Her eyes filled, but she nodded once.
They followed the young doctor into the procedure room.
It looked worse than Iyisha remembered it. Tools were scattered across the floor. Wires hung from the monitor. A cut shirt lay near the bed. The restraint straps were still open where they had dragged her away.
Iyisha stopped at the doorway.
Her body knew the room before her mind did.
Malcolm felt her lock up.
He turned his head toward the doctor. "Hurry."
The doctor ran to a cabinet and pulled open drawers until glass clinked. He grabbed two vials, a syringe, and a small sealed pack. His hands shook, but the work made him steadier.
"This will fight the sedative," he said. "It will not clear it fully."
"Do it."
"She’ll vomit more. Her heart will spike. She may shake hard enough to fall."
Malcolm looked at Iyisha.
She leaned against him, pale and sweating, eyes half open.
"Do it."
The doctor swabbed her arm with trembling fingers and pushed the needle in.
Iyisha flinched late.
The drug hit fast.
Her whole body jerked against Malcolm’s hold. She sucked in one breath, then folded forward and vomited again. Malcolm held her hair back with one hand and kept the pistol angled toward the door with the other.
The survivors gathered near the wall, silent and terrified.
The young doctor checked Iyisha’s pulse with two fingers. "It’s working."
Iyisha spat weakly and dragged air into her lungs. Her hands shook hard now. Her eyes opened wider, then squeezed shut against the lights.
She swallowed and pressed one hand over her stomach.
He looked at it, then back at her face.
The question stayed between them.
A scream cut through Sector Two.
Malcolm turned.
At the far end of the corridor, a woman was crouched over something on the floor. A twitcher had her shoulder in its mouth, tearing while she folded herself over a smaller body beneath her. The woman did not try to crawl away. She stayed over the child, shaking, taking the bite while the girl underneath her cried into her dress.
Iyisha saw them.
Her eyes sharpened through the drug. "Stop."
Malcolm already moved.
He crossed the corridor and fired once into the twitcher’s spine. It jerked but kept biting. He reached it before it could turn, grabbed its head, and drove the knife through its temple.
The twitcher collapsed over the woman.
Malcolm kicked it off.
The mother sagged sideways, bleeding hard from the shoulder. The little girl crawled out from under her, face wet, hair stuck to her cheeks. fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm
The young doctor ran after Malcolm and dropped beside the woman.
The mother clutched the child with her good arm and tried to push the doctor away.
Iyisha limped closer, still gripping Malcolm’s sleeve.
The girl looked up at her.
Iyisha stared at the child’s face. Then at the mother.
A name moved through the haze.
Arnulf.
Her voice came out rough. "Are you Arnulf’s family?"
The mother froze.
Her eyes widened.
The girl stopped crying for half a second.
Malcolm looked at them.
The mother’s mouth trembled. "You know him?"
Iyisha nodded weakly. "He’s coming."
The mother broke then, but only in the face. Her body stayed wrapped over the child like she expected the next bite to come from the wall.
Malcolm looked at the wound. "Can she walk?"
The young doctor pressed a cloth hard to the bite. "Maybe."
The mother shook her head. "Take her."
"No," the girl cried.
Malcolm grabbed the mother under one arm and pulled her up. "Walk or we leave you both."
The mother gasped, then found her feet. "I can walk."
They moved again.
More survivors joined them now. The sight of Malcolm cutting through the corridor had pulled them out of corners and open cells. They came in gowns, coats, bare feet, blood, and terror. Some limped. Some carried others. One old man kept whispering numbers to himself. A teenage boy held a younger child against his side and stared at every open door.
Sector One was ahead.
Cedric’s voice cracked through the radio clipped to Malcolm’s belt. "Malcolm, if you’re alive, answer."
"Who’s that?" Iyisha looked at him.
Malcolm grinned at her. "Cedric and Phillip."
"What? They’re—"
"Malcolm! Answer!"
Malcolm motioned for her to be silent. "Sector Two. Moving to One."
Cedric exhaled hard. "Gate is open. Phillip’s holding it. You have about thirty seconds before I close it."
"Keep it open."
"Then move faster."
A heavy impact shook the corridor behind them.
The young doctor looked back.
A tank stepped into view at the far end of Sector Two.
Its shoulders filled the hallway. Torn restraints hung from its wrists. Its head turned slowly toward the sound of the survivors.
The line broke into panic.
Malcolm fired twice into its face.
It flinched, then kept coming.
"Run," he said.
The survivors ran.
Iyisha tried.
Her legs nearly failed on the first step. Malcolm pulled her forward with one arm locked around her waist. The mother stumbled beside them with the child clinging to her hip. The young doctor pushed from behind, rifle in one hand, med kit in the other.
Sector One gate came into view.
Cedric stood beside the panel, filthy and thin, one hand jammed into the exposed wiring. Phillip stood in the middle of the gate with a rifle raised, face hollow from hunger but still solid enough to look impossible to move. On their back is a number of survivors.
"Move!" Phillip shouted.
Survivors poured through.
Cedric stared at the size of the group. "You got them out. Thank God."
"They followed," Malcolm said.
Phillip fired past them.
A twitcher broke through the survivors near the back and launched toward the gate. Malcolm shoved Iyisha toward Phillip, turned, and caught the twitcher before it reached the mother and child. It hit him hard enough to drive him into the wall. His wounded arm screamed. He drove the knife into its neck, missed the spine, and shoved it toward the closing gate.
"Cedric!"
"I’m closing it!"
The gate started down.
The twitcher thrashed between the metal rails, claws scraping the floor as it tried to crawl through.
Malcolm planted both hands against its chest and pushed.
Its teeth snapped near his wrist.
The gate lowered.
Phillip grabbed Malcolm’s shoulder from behind. "Move!"
Malcolm shoved once more.
The twitcher slid back.
The gate came down.
Metal crushed through bone and hit the floor with a hard final sound.
Sector One sealed.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Survivors crouched against the walls, sobbing and coughing. The mother slid down with her daughter in her lap. The young doctor dropped beside her and pressed cloth harder against the bite.
Cedric leaned against the panel, breathing like each lungful hurt.
Phillip lowered the rifle and looked at Iyisha.
Iyisha stood because Malcolm’s arm held her up. Sweat ran down her face. Her legs shook. Her eyes were clearer now, but the drug had not left her fully.
