Just a story my friend wanted to post to his friends. I offered him to post it here if any of you very few people would like to do some reading.


-cheers

C H A P T E R I
S h i p m e n t

“Jake, you get the invoice for that last shipment to the Office?”
“No, I’m taking it tomorrow; my night’s too packed,” Jake replied.
“You gotta do that soon, we don’t have room for procrastination. You know what’s at risk here, Jake: this project will skyrocket BentCore to the top of the food chain. We can’t let anything slip, this needs to be a foolproof, airtight, lips-sealed transaction!”
Jake rolled his eyes, “Listen, Anthony, you don’t need to give me a speech. I understand the risks, and I understand the rewards. So don’t preach to me about procrastination. I’m not the one who almost abandoned the whole project.”
“You know what happened! Don’t throw that in my face!” Anthony snapped.
“You had a bad experience with a C.T., so what? In the early stages of testing, hundreds of our people were bitten by them.”
“Don’t even try and make that any less than it is, Jake. I was almost infected! If this project gets out, if anyone makes a mistake, then another eight billion will be added to the lives this project has already cost.”
“I wasn’t trying to disregard the seriousness of it, I’m just saying, you were nipped. It’s no big deal, get over it!”
“Ah, whatever. There’s no getting through to you. Just make sure you get that god damn invoice to the Office,” Anthony told his colleague.
“Yeah, yeah,” Jake said, and walked off.
Anthony sighed; the C.T. (Contamination) Project had taken a lot out of everyone.
In the minds of all who were part of the project from the beginning, some two hundred thousand, the C.T.s would revolutionize practically every industry on Earth, Mars, and Nova Mundus, the three human-colonized worlds. The gains were incredible. For some, Anthony thought, holding his mechanized right arm up in front of his face, the fingertip where he was “nipped” completely transformed into pure Class A TitanChrome, CATC coated tubes running from each joint to a corresponding panel, packed with wires that controlled the respective limb, it has taken more than it will ever give.


It was 12:00 PM by the time Jake made it to BentCore’s headquarters (the Office), an envelope under his arm marked ‘CONFIDENTIAL’. The invoice for the latest shipment of C.T.s to Morocco was an important document, the company had to keep their expenses and earnings in perfect order to avoid any holes opening up in the project.
He strode along the metal walkway, his perfectly shined shoes making loud clanking noises on the grate. The fluorescent lighting directly overhead illuminated his shadow as he passed beneath each bulb. BentCore, despite their unbelievable success and substantial net worth, was a rather underground operation. The products they made were illegal beyond definition, the risks they were taking in manufacturing these products catastrophic, and the way they went about distributing said products, in order to make them look insignificant, dangerous. Yet they kept a low profile, only their customers and their employees having any clue as to what BentCore really was.
A bead of sweat ran down the side of Jake’s face, preparing for the reprimand from his superiors in the room at the end of the hall. The invoice was late by seven hours, an atrocious misdemeanor in conduct. But that was the issue with having human minds doing the work: there was always room for failure. Always there was weakness, in fact, that was the only thing that was certain with humans and other living things: there would always be failure, in some form or another.
Which was exactly what BentCore was bent on fixing. The C.T.s purpose was to exact this singular problem. They were to make imperfection perfect. Instead of continuously trying to make the perfect thing, which had been the goal of mankind since the beginning of time, they would take the imperfect thing, the living thing, and make it perfect.
Unfortunately, Jake was not perfect, and instead suffered through a full hour of scolding from his superiors before finally being excused from the meeting.
BentCore’s next shipping was in three hours on the northern coast of the island, being a paid supervisor of every such event; Jake was intent on being punctual. If he could help it, he didn’t want to disappoint anyone again for a long, long time.


Anthony’s foot hammered down on the gas pedal. The jeep swerved sharply around the corner. The industrial area of the northern coast was packed tightly, storage containers the length of football fields and the height of skyscrapers stood in orderly rows, and the roads between were few. This was his fourth late on his seven-year record with BentCore, on the fifth, the employee was… “perfected”. There would no longer be use for them due to their repeated tardiness, and they would become something more productive. Quarantined and left to tedious, menial tasks that would be performed without fault. They would no longer be wholly human, the C.T.s would see to that.
The shipping yard came into sight, fluorescent, low voltage, industrial lights the size of helicopters illuminating the site where enormous cranes were lifting piles of crates composed of CATC onto the ship. Normally, goods as expensive and important as C.T.s would be shipped as safely and quickly as possible, using airplanes, not overseas in boats, but due to the low profile that BentCore had to keep, they were made to look like shipments of fruit, weapons, or furniture. A closer look would reveal the extremely high security and absolute certainty of death to those who came in contact with the ship, or even came too close.
Anthony pulled his armored jeep into the warehouse designated as ‘PARKING’ by the white letters painted above the doorway. The ignition slid open and his I.D. card slid out, the block letters “P7889E4 BARRON, ANTHONY LEE CLASS 2 SUPERVISOR” engraved on its shining metal surface. The numbers and letters, “P7889E4”, his code, his name in this company, the only thing that identified him in the eyes of his superiors. He snatched the card out with his mechanic arm, shouldered open the door, which slid with a sound like air escaping from a vacuum, and ran off to meet up with Jake.


“What the hell man? This is your fourth late! You know what’s gonna-”
“I don’t need that right now, just update me on what’s happened so far,” Anthony said, sliding his card into another slot on a raised data pad. His code popped up on the screen to the right of the slot, the words “LATE… 4” scrolling up below, along with a fingerprint reader, which Anthony quickly put his left ring finger and thumb to.
“Same as always, the cranes take the crates off the shore, and put ‘em on the boat. Nothing unusual.”
“In numbers please.”
“Umm…” Jake referred to the data pad in his right hand, tapping the screen a few times before saying, “Thirty-seven already onboard, and only eleven hundred twenty-three to go.”
Anthony sighed, he had missed too much of the transaction to be completely confident that nothing had happened.
“I’m going down there, I need an inspection ASAP on those crates already on the ship.”
“What are you getting so anal about?”
“Just do it Jake!”
“Alright, alright, keep your voice down, I don’t like yelling.”
Anthony jogged down the metal grate staircase in front of the two, towards the pick-up zone. Row for row, he thoroughly checked the exterior of each crate. His gut told him something was wrong, he wouldn’t listen to the nagging in his mind that it was his instinctual need for perfection. Something was definitely wrong.
Behind him he heard metal-on-metal contact and swiveled sharply, gripping a nearby metal post, prepared to rip it cleanly off with his mechanical right arm. But it was simply another BentCore employee making his rounds through the crates as Inspector.
“Hey! Keep your eyes out for anything out of the ordinary!” Anthony called to him.
“Why the hell do you think I’m getting paid?”
Anthony chose to ignore him and continue with his search. As he turned though, he spotted something in the corner of his eye, on closer observation though, his fears were realized: An apple-sized hole was torn in the edge of one crate.
“CALL OFF THE SHIPMENT! QUARANTINE THE AREA!”

C H A P T E R II
Q u a r a n t i n e

K38 SMGs (Hawks) in their hands, they filed from the heavily armored vehicles built exactly for this purpose: quarantine, the isolation of an entire quarter of the island in hopes of finding and eliminating the escaped C.T.s. However, even with one hundred seventy spark rounds in each of their six magazines, the security personnel knew there was no chance. Just like everyone else on the island, they knew that trying to find the four C.T.s would be like trying to find a certain microscopic organism in a haystack, but harder.
Anthony, Jake and all the other unarmed and unarmored employees were, themselves, quarantined. They were herded like sheep into a series of armored buses, only a few minutes after Jake, hearing Anthony’s warning, had sounded the alarm. Like refugees from a civil war, they were driven to a base and locked inside to prevent any danger from coming to them.
“This is bullshit, how’d they get out? How is this possible?” Anthony said, his left hand running through his hair with frustration, his right resting limply on the cold, concrete floor beside him.
Jake, despite his usual casual attitude, was just as stressed and scared as his fellow supervisor, “So is this the end?”
“Of what, BentCore… or the lives of the eight billion people on this planet?”
“Good point…”
The two sat in silence, listening to the gentle murmur of the crowd gathered around them. Anthony was astonished at the amount of people dedicated to BentCore’s cause, he knew the figures, but he had never just sat down and considered how many people that actually was. It almost disgusted him, actually, how many people could believe so purely and strongly that this was the right thing to do. Anthony had his own moral qualms with what BentCore was changing in the world. On one hand, he understood the benefits of it, the sacrifice of the few to save the many, but on the other, he saw it for what it really was, the sacrifice of morals, values, and beliefs, to benefit an already prosperous species.
Humans didn’t need what they were gaining from the C.T. Project, they wanted it. Their greed caused them to strive for perfection. But even as he thought about this, he realized the ridiculousness of his own contemplations. He was one of those thousands involved in this project… he was simply beginning to have his doubts…
“Hey! Could I get a sandwich or something over here?” Jake called over to one of the security officers holding a Hawk across his chest, the spark rounds glowing blue through the semi-translucent clip. In response to his question, the officer reached behind him without looking, wrapped his hand around something hard resting on the table and half-tossed, half-threw it at Jake. The wrapped object struck his face and dropped to the floor.
“Well that was rather unnecessary,” Jake, said as he retrieved the object from the floor, “Hey! An apple! Thank you so much!”
“You don’t have to be sarcastic Jake, the officers follow protocol strictly. They need to keep the crowd quiet and under control.”
“I know, but I like to make it as difficult as I possibly can for them.” he smiled like a seven year old boy who had just placed a tack on his teacher’s chair.
“Jake, this isn’t a joke! The entire world, no, all three of them, is at risk here! The escape of those C.T.s has probably already had a catastrophic effect on this island!”
“How many millions of times do I need to tell you this before it penetrates your thick skull? I always get it! Whenever there’s seriousness in any kind of situation, I get it! I’m simply trying to make the situation a little less heavy! So seriously, calm down and stop trying to make an already horrific incident even worse!’
The conversation halted abruptly, along with everyone else’s, as the staccato sound of bullets, along with the humming of the spark rounds activating, resonated through the air. As quick as lightning, the highly trained security personnel assumed defense positions, their Hawks at the ready in one hand, and an M307 tactical static grenade in the other, their fingers hovering over the activation button.
The sounds stopped almost as soon as they began, but the officers didn’t ease up, their Hawks still trained on the singular door.
“Two of the specimens have been found and eliminated, capture was not possible.” The words came from the officer’s headset that was closest to the door.
He clicked the response button on his belt, keeping his K38 facing the door, held at the perfect height to deliver the deadly, electric rounds center mass, “Confirm Code 43-B and friendly pass.”
The simple response meant everything, if the person on the other end of the radio transmission answered correctly; it would prove that they were a friendly soldier.
“D47 dash 5 dash XBH89. Belly up.”
“Affirmative, entry granted,” the officer murmured, nodding to the security personnel around him and making a downward swipe with his hand. They all lowered their weapons and replaced their shock grenades on their belt.
The sound of an I.D. card slipping into the slot outside the door, along with the click of the door unlocking reverberated in the ears of everyone in the entire facility.
“C’mon Jake,” Anthony said, grabbing his co-workers arm and standing him up, “We gotta move out, this won’t be pretty.”
“Why don’t you tell those guards that? I’m sure they could use that information.”
“Does it look like they’ll listen to anyone right now?”
“True, but where are we gonna go?”
“I’m pretty sure there’s another exit somewhere in this building.”
“If there is, don’t you think the C.T.s would have found it?”
“All we can do is hope.”
Thanks to the ten second security delay on the door, Jake and Anthony had the time to jog past most of the, now standing, crowd. When the door opened, though, Anthony couldn’t help but peek back, just to see if his suspicions were well founded. The door opened slowly, as it was programmed to do, but just as it made the ‘click’ that signaled it’s completed swing, and everyone within eyeshot of it saw the towering, CATC behemoth, covered in seemingly randomly placed, metallic plates, coated tubes, and an overall look that foreshadowed the onlookers doom, standing in that doorway, the C.T. infected human (Contaminated) reached out with its right arm and tore through the reinforced door beside it, relieving it of a chunk about three foot square.
“Jesus!” was the only word the closest security officer forced through his throat before the shard of reinforced steel made its way through the man’s chest, ricocheting off the wall on the other side and clattering to the ground, dripping blood.
Anthony and Jake were at the rear entrance of the lockdown shelter before the whole scene unfolded, but Anthony had a pretty good idea of what went on.
“Check that door,” Anthony told Jake, “I need to see if there are arms stored here.”
“The building’s in lockdown, the whole island’s in lockdown. Only Class 2s and up have the security clearance we’ll need!” Jake said.
“I’ll use my card, fish around in those storage containers for guns, food, packs, anything we might need!”
Jake nodded and immediately began searching the large containers. Anthony slipped his card into the slot beside the door, keyed in the clearance code, and swiped both his left ring finger and thumb. The door clicked, sounded a light tone and began the security countdown from ten.
As if a magnet, the chaos that was unfolding at the opposite end of the shelter drew his eye towards it. As his peripheral became centered in his mind, he saw gigantic holes in the walls of the shelter where the Contaminated had simply pushed their way through the three-foot thick concrete. Bloodied mounds of broken bone and clothing, which he could only assume used to be human, lay in many places, and the Contaminated continued with their destruction.
Anthony guessed that only thirty or so other people, out of at least two thousand, had made it to their side of the shelter. The rest either turned to pulp, or infected. He saw a few Contaminated who sprouted the new feature that BentCore had installed in the most recently produced C.T.s: when infected, the appliance, tool or otherwise that was directly in contact with their skin, would meld with their form and also become Class A TitanChrome. This would make a controlled Contaminated’s function simpler, by having the tool needed to carry out their task on them at all times, without the need of maintenance. In this case, it turned against them, one of the many extreme risks BentCore knew they were taking when they created C.T.s. The Hawks that the officers were holding were now simply glowing gun barrels jutting from the tips of their arms.
The door’s security delay timed out, and the door eased open. Anthony ran off to where Jake was now unloading piles of Hawks and heavier duty guns, like the MS14 assault rifle, fitted with EMP rounds that delivered an electro-magnetic pulse into the victim, and the H7 Ground Personnel Charge Launcher (H7 GPCL), a cheap, light, disposable, plastic weapon that fired a single disruption round, that simply drew all electric currents to its position, frying the circuits of almost any machine.
Everyone in the rapidly decreasing crowd grabbed a weapon and ran out the door, Jake being one of the first, Anthony the last. He snatched his card from the slot, activating the closing sequence, which was almost instant.
MS14 and H7 in hand, he ran out to meet up with the waiting crowd, they gathered around the raised dais located exactly twenty meters from the shelter. The dais was basically the purpose of the shelter, in extreme emergency it would be activated to keep anything and everything outside of the shelter; in this case, it was the other way around.
The air between them and the shelter seemed to thicken, and continued to do so until it became opaque and impermeable.
“C’mon everybody, it won’t take long for the Contaminated to make it through this obstacle, we need to get moving,” Anthony called out.
After the crowd of thirteen started off at a quick pace, he said quietly to Jake, “I have no idea where the hell to go.”

C H A P T E R III
T r a p p e d

Pitch black, the eeriness of that singular thought only added to his mounting fear. Pitch black and nowhere to go…
The endless metal of BentCore’s island was disturbing at the least; the seamless, industrial sense of the land perfectly representing the corporation’s goal. Silence was the only company the group of thirteen had, besides each other. They were just as separated as Earth was from Mars, lost in thoughts of so many lives lost in such a short amount of time, and the overwhelming potential for chaos the Contaminated possessed.
“Jake.” Anthony whispered.
Jake turned to him, a far away look in his eye, then resumed his prior position: staring at the ground as he walked.
“Jake!” Anthony whispered more harshly, a few of the BentCore employees ahead of them turning back, seeming almost upset with him for disturbing the uncomfortable silence.
Jake started, then looked to his friend and said, as if waking from a dream, “Huh? What?”
“There’s something that’s been bugging me ever since that… incident in shelter.”
“Yeah?” Jake said sarcastically, “Something about that bugged you?”
“If the Contaminated simply ran through the wall anyways, why would the first one radio in and have the door opened?”
“Maybe it wanted to be bad-ass.”
“I’m serious, Jake. What’s the point of going to all that trouble?”
“Who cares? We’re all gonna die anyways,” another man from the crowd murmured to Anthony from behind.
“And you are?” Anthony asked him.
“I say again: who cares, we’re still gonna die.”
“He must be Grumpy; I’ll try to find Snow White, she knows how to cheer him up.” Jake said with a smirk.
“I’m Oakley,” the man leered at Jake, then shifted his gaze back to Anthony, “Do you have any sort of plan? Or are we just stumbling blindly to our own deaths?”
“I would’ve used a different word than ‘death’-” Jake began his sarcastic reply; before Anthony’s steeled glare forced his mouth closed.
“I think that first we need to find any other survivors, and occupy some sort of defensive position,” Anthony suggested. By this time, the rest of the crowd had ceased their dazed walk and gathered near the three.
“How about the Office?” A woman from the crowd, one of only four, piped in.
“It’s probably the most secure building on the island… But you need to remember; the C.T.s operate using the brains of their victims, so they’re just as smart as we are. They most likely have the entire HQ under surveillance and heavy guard by now,” Jake reminded them.
“Well, we obviously aren’t safe in any of the lockdown shelters…” Oakley added.
“Glad you pointed that out,” Jake smirked.
“Wouldn’t our best bet be getting off of the island?” Another man from the gathering crowd said.
“Yes, but like I said, there are still possible survivors, especially in the southern half of the island.”
“The Contaminated are much faster than us… there’s no way we can make it there before them.”
“We need to try. These machines are our creation, and therefore it is our responsibility to prevent the apocalypse of three worlds.”
“Good luck…” Oakley murmured.
“You’re coming with us; you’re as guilty as we are.”
“Well, what’s our first plan of action?” Another man in the crowd asked Anthony.
“Listen, I don’t have all the answers! If we’re gonna survive here, we all have to be able to think for ourselves,” Anthony replied, which was simply another way to say, ‘I have no clue whatsoever.’

A grinding noise in the distance to Anthony’s left caused him to turn.
Red exploded in his face, followed by several snapping sounds and a sickening noise, like a half-filled balloon, covered by a wet rag, popping and deflating. His leg lost all feeling, his robotic arm ceasing to function as its circuits were fried, which was just as painful as his elbow breaking. He collapsed on the ground, his ears shot from the sudden gunfire from all around him.
The only thought that pierced his shocked and stupefied mind repeated itself over and over, Trapped.
Darkness crept through his eyes; the deep red of fresh, warm blood soon engulfed most of the sight he had left. The darkness flashed away, it was a movie with no sound, it couldn’t have been real. He saw Jake and Oakley and four others, along with bodies littered on the rough concrete path. The world was stained red, Jake was yelling at him.
Trapped…
Darkness again, he could see nothing while his eyes were wide open, grasping at any images that would offer themselves. A flash of the hell unfolding around him. Jake was now pulling him by his disabled arm; they weren’t at the site of the attack anymore, but on the bank of a stream. The movie stopped. Nothing processed in his mind except that one repetitive thought, trapped.
The pants over Jake’s knee blew open, a red liquid spraying out both the front and back of the limb, a similar wound opening just above that one, and another above that. Anthony’s heart skipped a beat, movies weren’t real, his heart returned to its incessant pounding. Jake collapsed into the river, the white of his eyes clearly showing, his pupils disappearing beneath his eyelids as his consciousness slipped away.
The scene went black once more, only to return seconds later, it wouldn’t leave him be. The red world shifted around, after seeing Oakley and one other man carry Jake off into the river, focusing instead on the backdrop, where flashes of gunfire, shining blue even in the red haze, illuminated the night. The beasts emerged from the blackness; close enough to spit on, shining armor of metal encasing their bodies. Void of any facial features or expression, simply a perfectly smoothed, rounded sheet of the same metal covering who knows what, a tube jutting from where it’s mouth should be and running down to re-enter its body, just overtop of its cold, metal heart. There were a dozen at least, but more kept coming, hailing glowing bullets down on those who dared to stir. The movie jolted backwards, shuddering as it was seemingly dragged along rough ground. Blackness. Trapped…
The strange sensation of his body engulfed in something, the feeling of weightlessness. A distant voice, “Fuck! Get them under the water! Under the water!” Nothing made sense, movies weren’t like this… movies didn’t hurt or kill. “They can swim?! They’re metal for fuck’s sake!” He heard someone scream. “Go! Go! Faster! Don’t let go of him!”
Trapped… trapped…
…Dead.

C H A P T E R IV
R e f u g e

The glare off the plastic Oakley had laid out stung Jake’s eyes, having only opened them an hour or so earlier. Fluorescent lighting may have been efficient, but it was painful nonetheless.
“I need to make sure once more that you’re comfortable with the procedure, Jake,” Oakley said once again to his dizzy patient.
“All I needed to know was that you’re a doctor, after that, all I do is listen. Now hurry the fuck up and do this before I chicken out,” Jake ordered him though gritted teeth.
“Should I check again for morphine?”
“You’ve already checked four times. Just go!”
“Alright, bite into this,” Oakley stuffed a stretched, wet rag into Jake’s mouth; He gladly bit down into it. The small, surgical saw began to spin, spelling out the pain that was to come. He forced his eyes closed, he knew he shouldn’t watch, but it was hard to look away. Whether his eyes were shut or not, he clearly felt the blade as it bit harshly into his upper thigh. Jake’s shriek of anguish reverberated off the steel walls of the hospital, not even slightly muffled by the wet cloth. He felt his tooth crack from the stress he was putting on his jaw, but he didn’t relent… Neither did the saw.
As it reached the bone, and sweat and tears were flowing freely from Jake’s face, he opened his eyes. A spot of his own blood landed directly in his eye, blurring his vision even more. But he clearly saw the blood-soaked doctor, the bloodstained plastic, and the blood-spattered wall. Unconsciousness clouded the edges of his mind, spreading slowly and painfully. Jake passed out.

The obscured scene around him slowly took shape, and Jake saw the doctor, Oakley, wiping his hands and face, the, once white, cloth now almost completely reddish-brown: the color of old, crusted blood.
“How… how…” Jake tried to speak.
Oakley started and his eyes flashed over to Jake, “Don’t try to speak, I’ve given you a couple of injections. You’ll most likely vomit once or twice and your head will be sore for the rest of the day. But you won’t feel a thing in your leg… it’s all better,” he stated with a smile, “I’m even surprised you made it this far, I thought you’d be dead as soon as I hit that artery!”
“Gee… thanks.”
“Even in the worst of shape, you manage to mouth off,” Oakley said, shaking his head.
“Even… even… even in that lab coat you look like a shithead…” Jake managed to pull off a strained smile; his head was throbbing.
“Take a look at your new leg.”
Oakley removed the sheet that covered Jake, and revealed the shining, TitanChrome leg underneath.
“Wow…” was all Jake could think to say as his eyes followed the intricate network of tubes and panels that made up his new limb. The thing was, his eyes kept going, even past the hip joint where the doctor had begun his incision. In fact, the metallic sheen had crawled all the way over his stomach, stopping just below the ribs on his new leg’s side, but continuing across his chest to cover his opposite shoulder.
“What the hell is this?!” Jake yelled at Oakley, the effort stabbing another thousand pins into his brain.
“Using C.T.s in medical procedures hasn’t quite been perfected yet, Jake. I made sure you understood the possible consequences of the slightest mistake,” Oakley seemed afraid that he’d suddenly find a metal boot in his face.
“I thought you were good enough not to make that kind of mistake!”
“It isn’t a matter of whether or not I’m good enough, it only has to do with luck. You and I both obviously ran out of that when we didn’t get killed in the gunfight! Just thank God there were still C.T.s left in this building. C.T.s with their hostility-inhibitors and allegiance processors installed and intact.”
Jake calmed, or rather, was forced to calm by the pounding numbness in his head. He sat back, “Well, how’s Anthony doing?”
“Well as you know,” Oakley replied, happily greeting the change in subject, shifting his gaze over to the cot next to Jake’s, “He took a fairly mild blow to the head, which elicited shock. Along with his decompressed left lung, the overloaded circuits in his arm, his torn calf, and the broken rib, he’s got about a ninety-five percent chance of living. We’ve managed to patch his lung, and his calf is in the process of being melded, as is his rib. As for his arm, it’s already able to function, the fried circuits were an easy fix.”
“And his head?”
“Cracked skull, no big deal. It was the first wound Greg and I melded.”
“Where’s Greg now?”
“Looking for food and other supplies in the cabinets.” Oakley replied.
“So, overall… we’re gonna be okay?”
“Ha! Did you not see those Contaminated?! Without their hostility-inhibitors, they’re just like cavemen! Rise to the top of the animal hierarchy, that’s most likely their goal. And with no allegiance processors or any of the programs that they’re supposed to be run through, they don’t listen to anyone but themselves.”
“I was referring to our health right now. It’s pretty obvious how fucked we are as soon as we step outside…”
“You know, Anthony’s the only one who says we need to stay on this island. There’s a shipping yard not too far away… we could leave before he wakes up.”
Jake shot forward, his new abdominal strength adding twice the speed and power to his movement, he brought his arm forward and wrapped it tightly around the doctor’s neck, “Listen closely, Doc, Anthony’s a better man than you’ll ever be. You obey what he says, everything he says, or you’ll be dead before I can choke you. He knows more about the Contaminated than anyone I know. If he says to do something, you’re fucked if you don’t.”
Jake eased his arm off, opening and closing his hand to relieve the muscles of their tension.
“Got it,” Oakley coughed, rubbing his neck.
Anthony jolted upright on his stretcher, the mechanized arms busy melding his rib and calf muscle moving with him, continuing with their mundane task as if nothing had happened.
“Is it over?!” He shouted at the top of his lungs.
“It’s okay, Anthony. We lost them at the river; Greg had the quick thinking to fire off an H7 round into the water after we got out. Those assholes were too dead to know what hit ‘em.”
“River? Who’s Greg? What happened?”
Jake spoke up, “You should lie back down, sitting probably isn’t that good for you. We were attacked by a bunch of Contaminated near the river, Oakley, Greg and I managed to drag you off to the water and catch the current downstream. We found this medical shelter when we got out, we’ve been here ever since.”
“And that was how long ago?” Anthony asked, calming and assuming his previous position.
“Yesterday, at about eleven PM,” Oakley answered.
“And the Contaminated haven’t found us yet?” Anthony asked, confused.
“Apparently not…” Jake replied.
“They must have, even if the ones who followed us into the water didn’t get us… They’re as smart as us… smarter, even. If you were assuming the offensive position back there, wouldn’t you have sent one group to flank us on land?”
“Well, if they had, we’d surely be dead by now.”
“Not necessarily, I think I’ve figured out why that one Contaminated took the door instead of breaking through the wall: they have to follow procedure. Remember back to when we worked in the lab as trainees, Jake? The very first program that was downloaded into their software, even before they were completed, was one that taught them to follow protocol.”
“But these C.T.s weren’t refined before they broke out.”
“So? They were complete enough to function, and that stage of development comes after they input the Protocol Memory.”
“So why would that stop them from killing us?”
“Well, think about it. BentCore used similar protocol to what the United Nations Army uses. One rule that every soldier is taught is that ambushing or killing medical personnel and patients in a hospital is against protocol.”
“So we’re safe as long as we stay in here…” Oakley murmured.
“Must be.”
“So,” Jake said, “Since you’re obviously gonna make us leave, what’s your plan?”
The conversation was interrupted as Greg jogged into the room, his face whiter than paper.
“What is it?” Oakley asked him after a long moment of hesitation.
“Umm… I think you guys better come have a look out the window…”

C H A P T E R V
E y e s


Row upon row… they were gathered in an orderly, military fashion. We’ve got no way out… Anthony thought, despair flooding through him.
“We’re fucked,” Jake stated simply, they all felt eerily calm as they stared blankly at the scene outside the small window. The Contaminated were gathered outside the hospital, cold and still. A legion of them, unafraid… emotionless. Each and every one was different, their tubes and panels all arranged differently, their arms often formed into various cannon-like weapons. It wasn’t their weapons or size that fed the sick feeling in Anthony’s stomach; it was their faces… thousands of them. Thousands of perfectly rounded, TitanChrome skulls with smoothed over faces. Bereft of feeling, emotion, expression, mercy… anything that would cause one to consider them human. The very embodiment of inhumanity.
“Jesus… it’s like the entire god damn production line…” Oakley said, dumbstruck.
“You should feel lucky that it isn’t. If all the C.T.s on this island were set free, well… add to that-” Anthony pointed out the window, “-the amount of people working at BentCore on this island…” Anthony let them finish his statement by themselves.
The four fell into silence, thinking the situation over again and again, hopelessly grasping for any solution that presented itself.
“Does anyone know if there’s a way out of this shelter?” Jake asked.
“Most hospitals on the island usually have passages to the sub-levels of the island,” Oakley answered.
“Are you kidding? The Contaminated haven’t demonstrated their intelligence enough for you yet? Do you really think they won’t know about the sub-levels, and haven’t considered that?” Anthony scoffed.
“Should we form some kind of medical convoy then?” Greg suggested.
“No, medical convoys are attacked all the time during war, and we don’t have any vehicles,” Jake said.
“Well, we have to do something about this,” Greg sighed.
“Really?” Jake said.
A screech like nails on a chalkboard spilt the air around them; their hands shit up to their ears. Anthony’s knees quivered as the painful noise made its way through his entire body, reverberating off the margin of his senses. He felt himself keeling over, bile rising in his throat, painful tremors caressing his spine. He thought he heard himself scream.
The sound changed pitch sharply, slowly becoming a resonant bass. He felt it in his chest as clearly as a blow from a hammer.
It stopped almost as quickly as it had started, his stomach contents removing itself from his throat and retreating to his stomach.
Jake’s mouth opened to let out a sound, but the words never came to Anthony’s ears. The only noise that slowly returned to his mind was a rhythmic booming. What is that? he thought to himself. The other three seemed to be thinking the same think, as they were slowly rising to their feet to peer out the window.
The incessant booming was getting louder, and its pace was picking up. His eye peeked over the sill. Anthony’s heart almost stopped, every one of the Contaminated waiting outside the shelter had begun a steady jog towards it. Their guns held out in front of them.
“Shit! Get to the sub-levels! Now!” Anthony screamed at the other three. He knew they couldn’t hear him, but they understood the gist of what he was saying when they too saw the tide that was coming to sweep them away.
Bullets ripped through the thin steel walls of the hospital, the four men ran full tilt for the stairs that led to the security door. Glowing slugs zipped through the air around them, narrowly missing Anthony’s head. Thousands of holes littered the walls of the shelter, small explosions sounded as the spark rounds tore through computers and lights. The hospital went dark, heightening Anthony’s feeling of hopelessness.
The pounding of the Contaminated’s collective march fell into chaos, as they each took on their own pace. Jake managed to grab a backpack of supplies that Greg had prepared earlier just as the first of the towering, TitanChrome behemoths crashed through the wall behind them. Bits of drywall and dust burst forth, covering the four refugees. As they made it closer to the stairs, they each scooped up an MS14 and an H7 from the pile of weapons Oakley and Greg had snatched before jumping into the river. At the top of the stairs Oakley stopped and pivoted, firing off his single H7 round into the closest Contaminated. The monster stopped dead in its tracks, its momentum carrying it only another foot before the charge did its part in shutting the creature down.
Anthony turned back just in time to see shards of Oakley’s skull scatter down the stairs and off the walls as the next Contaminated thrust its enormous fist into the doctor’s face, crushing the man’s skull against the wall behind him.
“Anthony! Card, now!” Jake, already at the bottom of the stairs, shouted to his friend. Anthony continued his mad dash down the steps. A Contaminated landed in front of him after clearing the stairs, the man was quick to react, throwing a right hook at its face, which it promptly swiped away. The weight of the simple parry threw his entire body into the wall lining the staircase, luckily saving him from the next punch the thing threw at him, which would’ve gone straight into his chest.
As Anthony swung the MS14 off his shoulder to deliver a volley of EMP rounds into the Contaminated’s chest, the beast fell forward onto the steps. There wasn’t time to thank whatever God had saved him, he made it to the door where Greg and Jake were waiting, firing off their MS14s at the gathering Contaminated, slid his card into the slot beside the door and ran his fingers along the data pad. There was no security timer on this door, and it began to swing open immediately.
Greg and Jake didn’t move, they held their positions, firing into the advancing flood of TitanChrome. Greg stood just behind Jake, where he would be partly shielded from the spark rounds the Contaminated were firing, by Jake’s armor. Jake, however, was taking a horrible beating, glowing holes presented themselves all over the CATC parts of his body, while his shoulder and normal leg each had at least two holes leaking precious blood.
When the door finally opened completely, Anthony was met by a half-dozen gun barrels aimed directly at his center mass. The thing was, these guns hadn’t turned to TitanChrome, and those holding them hadn’t either.
“Get your friends in here now!” One of the men ordered him. Anthony did just as he was commanded, he reached out with his metal arm, wrapped it around Greg’s trigger arm, and pulled him into the safety of the doorway.
Jake’s normal leg gave out underneath him after yet another glowing, blue bullet found its way through his hip, touching off a main artery. He was screaming, Anthony guessed he had been for a while, but despite the seriousness and quantity of his injuries, he kept his finger on the trigger, letting off controlled burst after controlled burst. A tear streaked Anthony’s cheek; he couldn’t stand seeing Jake in this state.
“Jake!” Anthony shouted.
Jake didn’t even look over at him. Anthony shot out from the cover of the doorway, weaving his arm under Jake’s shoulder and hoisting him up. A shriek of agony passed through Jake’s lips.
He sprinted back into the passage; the men inside sealed the security door. Jake kept shooting the assault rifle wildly, his eyes darting back and forth, as if he could still see the Contaminated bearing down on him. Anthony quickly, but gently, removed the MS14 from his hand. His stomach lurched in empathy as his friend’s finger continued its pumping even after the gun was removed from his grasp.
“The pain is killing his mind…” The man, who had ordered him two save Greg and Jake, said.
“Nothing’s killing him, he’ll be fine. We just need a doctor.” Anthony didn’t believe what he was saying one bit, but he needed to say, he needed to try to convince himself that it was true.
“We’ll have to take you down to a hospital further down. These tunnels aren’t safe enough. It’ll take a little while to get there though.”
“How’d you know we were there?” Greg asked.
“We’ve tapped into the communication stream the Contaminated are using. We heard the orders to gather outside the hospital, so we figured there were survivors left. They sent us up here to retrieve you. About halfway here, we heard the order the following message pass over the comm channel,” The man pulled a data pad from his breast pocket, moved his finger over the screen a few times, then handed it to Anthony, “It’s got us rather… confused.”
Static sounded from the tiny speaker on the pad and a seemingly normal human voice said, “Initiate diversion, forties have been confirmed as targets. Override Protocol Memory engaged. Proceed and eliminate.”
Anthony replayed the message again, stopped to think, then handed the pad back to the man.
“I think the ‘diversion’ was that sound they emitted… and the “forties” must have been us. As for the rest, it seems pretty straightforward,” Anthony said to him.
“Yeah, we heard the sound, but what’s the Protocol Memory?”
“You worked on the C.T.s at one point didn’t you? Don’t you remember the program that was inputted into their system before they were allowed to function?” Anthony asked.
“I was never part of the Contamination Project,” he motioned to the rest of his party, “We’re strictly military.”
“I see… Well, the Protocol Memory is basically regular U.N.A. warfare protocol that is inputted into each C.T. before the product is refined and outfitted with hostility-inhibitors, etc.” Anthony explained.
“That explains why they haven’t made any attempt to get in here.”
“It won’t be long, you heard that message, and pretty soon you’ll be in the same position we were.”
“We need to get going,” The man said, “By the way, I’m Sergeant Major Reeves, these are my men, we’re Beta Twelve, one of only eight squads left.”
“I’m Anthony, Supervisor Second Class, and this-” he motioned to Jake, who was being supported by two of the soldiers from Beta Twelve, “-is Jake, Supervisor First Class.”
“I’m Greg, Inspector First Class, we lost Oakley back in the hospital.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, but we really need to get down there if we’re going want any sort of chance,” Reeves told them.
“After you.” Greg said, pointing in the direction Beta Twelve had come from.

Anthony sat beside Jake, as the group rested, watching his still-stunned eyes as they darted back and forth. Jake had really been the closest thing to family for Anthony since they started at BentCore. The steel walkway was stained red all around Jake, they had tried their best to put pressure on his wounds, but the blood was still seeping through, the cloths saturated. He had saved all three of their lives.
All of a sudden Jake’s eyes stopped their darting and fixed themselves intently on Anthony’s. His gaze was glassy, like it wasn’t entirely him. A small line of red began to trickle from the bottom rim of Jake’s left eye.
“Eyes… Their eyes…” Jake muttered, “…Eyes…”

C H A P T E R VI
B r e a c h

“This is ridiculous!” One of the six men seated at the table with Anthony scoffed.
“What are you talking about, sir? We have all the proof we need and more in order to evacuate!” Reeves shouted back at him. Anthony chose to keep his mouth shut for now.
“You have no right to yell at your superior, Sergeant Major,” The man glared heavily at Reeves, “You will remember your place.”
“With all due respect, Colonel, in the situation we’re in, I don’t give a fuck what you think. We need to evacuate these people or they will die. You can stay if you feel so inclined,” Reeves said back, leaving the entire table in silence for three minutes straight.
“If I could interject here,” Anthony said, “We have a legion of thousands of Contaminated above us. They’ve already identified three of us as targets, and it won’t be long for the rest of us.”
“Colonel Judd and I aren’t ready to take the risk of moving all these people. If we get ambushed on the way, we could be trapped,” The other superior officer at the table, Lieutenant Colonel Sangster, said to Anthony, “Plus, their Protocol Memory keeps them from entering the sub-levels without granted permission.”
“Are you serious Sangster? Somehow they have the power to override Protocol Memory, you heard that as well as I did! Soon they’ll override the directive that keeps them from coming in here!” Reeves shouted yet again.
“Could you keep your voice down please, Major? And we can get back to speak like civilized people,” Sangster said calmly.
“My apologies, sir. But this is an issue that just can’t have two sides. We either stay and die, or leave and probably die. There’s only one side that gives us even the slightest chance of survival.”
“And where do you propose we go, Reeves?” Judd asked, trying hard to compose himself.
“Well, Mr. Barron here has formulated something of a plan,” he motioned to Anthony, “If you would.”
Anthony straightened, pulled out the data pad that Reeves had lent him, and cleared his throat, “I’ve been going over the blueprints of the sub-levels, and I’ve picked out one route that would keep us relatively safe even when the Contaminated manage to break in here.”
“Even ‘if’ they make it in here, you mean,” Judd interrupted.
“No, I don’t. They will make it in here, and I plan on having these people under at least a few miles of steel before they do,” Anthony said, getting tired of the attitude the Colonel insisted on expressing, “Anyways, I say we take the cargo elevators down to level E9, for the simple reason that no matter how strong or fast the Contaminated are, they will still have to take the same amount of time getting down the elevators.”
“And from there?” Judd asked.
“Give the man a chance to breathe, Judd,” Sangster said to his colleague.
Anthony continued, “From level E9, we’ll follow the main walkway to Core 4, hopefully the radiant energy signature given off by the plasma core will throw off their sensors somewhat, giving us some more time. After that, we’ll take another elevator up to level C6, where we’ll follow the next main walkway until we’re just underneath our target…” His voice trailed off as he revealed the next, three-dimensional slide on the data pad, and saw the expressions of those at the table.
“That’s absolutely ridiculous!” Sangster exclaimed, followed by similar reactions from the other members of the party.
“The Office?! Are you serious? That’s the very first place an occupying force would control!” Judd laughed in his face.
Anthony kept collected, presenting his argument calmly, “Think about it, Colonel! What reason do the Contaminated have to seize control of the Office? They were here before those C.T.s broke out, they aren’t an outside force. They’re thinking creatures, just like us. The grounds that I’m working on here, is the very likely chance that they over thought. That they thought about the fact that we’d be keeping to our hiding places, and not taking the risk to go for the headquarters. I think we should take that risk, we should head for the Office.”
“For what purpose? What is there at the Office that isn’t within our grasp already?” Judd asked, still disagreeing with Anthony.
“A possibility. A possibility that we’ll find answers that we desperately need. A possibility that there’s a way to stop these things. A possibility for the safety of these people!” Anthony responded.
“Lovely speech, but it holds no ground with us. We do not have the right to put these peoples’ lives at such risk!”
“You don’t have the right?!” Reeves shouted at him, “There are at least twenty thousand people waiting outside this room for our decision, and you preach to me about rights?! You saw the Contaminated. You know what they used to be? They were people, like you and me. But now they’re dead, and their bodies desecrated by the filth of this wretched company. Thousands of people are dead, and you’re stuck on rights.” Reeves shook his head in disgust, “I’m finished with this discussion, you people are pigs to me. Let’s go Anthony.”
Reeves stood up, shot off a sarcastic salute, and stormed from the room. Anthony waited a few seconds before following suit.

“What do you plan on doing?” Anthony asked the Sergeant Major once they had made it back to the medical tent that had been set up in the cavernous, underground chamber. He looked over to where Jake had been recovering for the past few days, various metal arms working on melding his many gunshot wounds.
“I have an idea, but I doubt it will work…” Reeves was pacing back and forth in the tent.
Anthony didn’t press the matter, sensing the Major needed time to consider the situation. He knew that Jake’s wounds, however severe, would eventually heal. With the technology they had, most injuries would. What worried Anthony was whether the pain had already driven Jake insane.
The entrance flap of their tent flew open and Greg burst in, breathing heavily, fear in his eyes, “There’s… we…”
“Slow down,” Reeves ordered.
“Y-yes sir. What I’m trying to say is,” Greg slowed, taking a few breaths, “The Contaminated are in the tunnels… they’re down here. We had to seal the doors.”
“Jesus Christ…” Reeves gasped.
“It won’t take long for them to make in here,” Anthony said, trying to think of a quick solution.
“Why didn’t you go straight to the Colonel with this?” Reeves questioned Greg.
“I couldn’t find him. I looked all through the Colonel and Lieutenant Colonel’s tents, but they were gone, along with their supplies.”
“What the hell?”
“I think I might know where they went,” Anthony said, “Reeves, I need you to do me a favor. Get to the P.A. and tell everyone to meet at the cargo elevators. Tell them to leave everything except their guns and food. We’re gonna go through with our plan.”
“Will do,” Reeves nodded, taking off for the controls for the P.A. system, Greg close at his heels.
“Let’s see what we can do about you Jake,” Anthony said to Jake’s unconscious face. He reached over to move one of the mechanical arms out of the way. Underneath was scarred flesh, burnt badly from the intense heat of the spark rounds. But the wounds had been closed, and the worn out bullets retrieved from inside him.
“Looks like it’s time to wake you up.”
Anthony released his grip on the arm, allowing it to return to its work, and pulled open a drawer beside the temporary hospital bed. His hand fished through its contents until he came across a syringe and a bottle. The rubber over the small vile depressed as the tiny point of the needle pierced it. A brilliant, blue liquid slowly poured into the airtight cylinder.
“Here goes nothing,” Anthony said as the tip of the needle sunk into the side of Jake’s neck, and the fluid infiltrated his jugular vein.
Anthony turned as the Sergeant Major’s voice sounded over the P.A., “I have orders from Colonel Judd, relocate to the cargo elevators. They will be open, fit as many as possible into them. There are only five, so some of you will be left behind temporarily. I repeat, relocate to the cargo elevators. They will be…” Reeves continued with the announcement. Repeating it another three times.
“You mind telling me where we are, and why we’re there?” Jake asked Anthony, causing him to swing right back around.
“I thought you’d be insane by now, or, better yet, dead,” Anthony said with a grin on his face.
“Too bad for you, then,” Jake said, keeping a serious face, “But judging by the sound of that guy’s voice, we better get the fuck out of here.”

C H A P T E R VII
S p r i n t

“Double time people!” Reeves shouted at the seething disarray of humans. The doors that the Contaminated were dangerously close to breaking through were only about forty meters from the entrance to the first cargo elevator. The Major, Beta Twelve, Anthony, Jake and Greg were desperately trying to herd the last group of about three thousand into the elevator before the worst happened.
Jake saw Anthony walking from person to person trying to calm them, and jogged up to him. Jake’s injuries had been healed to only flesh wounds by the melding machines, “It’s as if they don’t care that they’re about to die!” he shouted over the mounting commotion.
“Just keep telling everyone to get into the god damn elevator!” Anthony yelled back. The throng was inching its way through the large entrance, but too slowly. In their own desperation and eagerness to make it into the elevator first, they slowed everyone else. People were shoving past each other, knocking each other down, trampling those already on the floor, and adding to the confusion.
Reeves shouted an order to one of the six soldiers of Beta Twelve that Jake couldn’t hear, but he surmised their intention when they began to head for the P.A. controls. Jake did his part to aid them by telling everyone he passed to listen up.
A sound like thunder echoed through the vast chamber as the Contaminated once again hammered collectively against the door. The metal was convexly warped, and it bulged even more with each of the harsh blows it took. The sharp hiss of escaping steam resonated from the pneumatic hinges of the door as they burst open one by one.
“People, calm down. If everybody slows down and does this in an orderly fashion, we can all make it out of here alive,” the P.A. boomed.
The hissing grew as two more hinges cracked, their systems failing due to the leak. It wouldn’t be long before the creatures would be turning these people into wet dust.
The crowd slowed somewhat, everyone trying to follow the orders of the military squad, while still trying to make it to the elevator in time. Jake saw everyone’s eyes shifting from the backs of the people in front of them to the slowly deteriorating security door. They were all scared.
It was only then that Jake, too, realized how unbelievably frightened he was. His grip tightened on his rifle and his other hand wrapped slowly around a shock grenade on his belt.
Another blow hammered into the door, a few of its hinges fell completely free of the mechanism; flashes of silver could be seen through the openings now revealing themselves around the edges of the door. Almost everyone was inside the elevator now, only a few hundred left to stumble his or her way inside.
Something large skidded across the border of his vision; spitting brilliant sparks as it collided with the ground. The door… he thought, acting quickly, putting his MS14 to his shoulder and glaring through the scope at the metal knights spilling through the doorway.
Jake froze; on each of their faces he saw the memory of the incident at the staircase, in each of their expressionless countenances he saw what had almost destroyed his mind. He saw their cold, black eyes. The heart that was sitting so calmly in his chest only moments before began to beat against his ribs, screaming for it all to stop. His lungs inhaled and exhaled rapidly, trying despairingly to contain his heart’s irrational spell of disobedience. And yet his mind kept placing those eyes on the monsters, even as they crushed the screaming, fleeing people. Even as the Contaminated hailed bullets and fists upon the people, all he could see were the eyes.
He pumped his trigger finger over and over, burst after burst, shooting eye after eye. As the EMP rounds struck their heads, they stopped, the electricity circulating through their kidnapped brains ceasing to flow. There were too many, and they were making more. Those the Contaminated didn’t kill, they injected with a needle that extended from their wrists. Infecting them with the hideous disease, the disgusting abomination of nature BentCore had begun.
Jake saw one woman who was clutching her chest, vomit spilling from her mouth, followed by a sudden spray of crimson blood as a tube made of TitanChrome slithered out and plunged deep into her chest. Similar wounds occurred all over her body, tubes shooting from her skin, turning and diving into her again. Her skin took on a metal sheen, her muscles and bones expanding and hardening, shining with the glint of CATC.
Jake took off her head before her transformation was complete, saving her from the hell that would have ensued.
Beta Twelve was making their way down from the P.A. controls, firing off bullet after bullet, staying in tight formations to reduce the target presented. Reeves, in front of the elevator, was shouting to them again, Anthony beside him, shooting H7 rounds into the closest Contaminated. Someone in the elevator with high enough clearance swiped their card and the gigantic elevator doors began to close.
He started off at a run for the elevator, unclipping two shock grenades, activating them, and tossing them into the horde of Contaminated, as he went. Two dull thumps with a buzzing undertone went off, even from the distance he was away from the grenades, his short hair stood on end and his whole body tingled.
Beta Twelve had entered the elevator already, Reeves now inching his way inside. Anthony waited though, spotting Jake, and covering him with his assault rifle. Jake was still about twenty meters away when Anthony’s rifle made a clicking sound. A Contaminated threw its fist straight into Jake’s metal chest, throwing him at least ten feet before he hit the ground.
The creature made up the ground instantly, pounding the ground where Jake’s head was only seconds before. The floor swallowed its entire hand and half its forearm, the force was so great. Jake stood up as quickly as he could, dodging a sweeping kick from the gigantic creature. Another fist hit him in the back, launching him forward. He saw a third Contaminated running in from his right side.
Jake leapt up, activating his last shock grenade, ducked down, predicting another punch, and stuck the grenade right under the closest creature’s chin. There was a shrill report of gunfire from the elevator, and the two other Contaminated that were after him fell to the ground, gaping bullet holes in their heads. Jake ran for the almost closed doors to the elevator… the shock grenade went off, hurling him, head first, into the elevator door and singeing his whole body with minor burns.
Hands curled over his burnt shoulder, he suspected they were on his other one too, but he couldn’t feel anything through the TitanChrome.
Jake tried as hard as he could to push backwards with his legs, aiding those trying to save him only slightly. The doors closed and he was inside.
They started to descend and he felt safe again, the eyes clearing from his mind, replaced by the image of thousands of people, traumatized but smiling.
“What now?” he asked, still unaware of the overall plan.
“Into the tunnels, boys,” Reeves smiled.

C H A P T E R VIII
T u n n e l s

The giant, white letters were stenciled on the grey wall: LEVEL E9. The migration of people had regrouped outside the elevator doors.
Reeves cranked the amp on his uniform end spoke into the mike supported by his headset, “People, let’s keep moving… quickly,” The horde set off at a confused jog, “Let’s not have a repeat of what happened up there. From now on, seeing as I am the commanding officer, along with the squad leaders of Alpha Four, Delta Seven, and Theta Four, you will listen to our commands, and carry them out.”
The people seemed to straighten somewhat, after observing the ruthless slaughter of so many of their former co-workers, it seemed that they wanted someone to tell them what to do. As if having someone to order them around would also give them somebody to blame for the mistakes they made.
Reeves switched off his amp and started off at a quick pace, everyone else following suit. Not too far behind them, the people at the rear of the host heard the elevator start its ascent.
“They aren’t very well armed,” Greg pointed out to Anthony, “Did you see anything on the blueprints about an armory or anything?”
“Not that I remember, Reeves has the data pad, ask him,” Anthony said, trying to get rid of him. Anthony wasn’t quite comfortable with Greg yet, and he wasn’t in the mood to talk with anyone. BentCore had one armory, but that was at their military base, in the southeast end of the island, much too far away from their goal.
“So… that Sergeant… Reeves, was it? He was telling me you had some sort of plan worked out for our escape,” Jake said, running up beside Anthony.
“Mhm,” Anthony said dismissively.
“Where are we headed next?” Jake asked.
“4th Core,” Anthony answered.
“That time of month is it?” Jake said, catching on to Anthony’s bitterness.
“Fuck off, Jake.”
“Whoa! Don’t go using words too big for you, now,” Jake said with a smile.
Anthony didn’t answer; he simply picked up his pace. Jake wasn’t ready to let it go so easily and kept beside him.
“Leave it alone, Jake.”
“Look, we need cooperation from everyone in order for all these people to survive. So quit acting like a depressed, teenage girl and contribute a little.”
“I haven’t slept in a couple days, Jake, this isn’t the best time.”
“This isn’t the best time for anyone, suck it up.”
Jake made his way back over to Reeves, leaving Anthony to contemplate what had been bugging him since he heard the radio transmission ordering the override of Protocol Memory. The one question that had been bombarding his consciousness since that moment, if answered, would quite possibly shift the entire situation back to the hands of the people.
Anthony’s thoughts were interrupted once more, but this time by the vibrant, blue-white glow, and deafening humming erupting from around the next corner.
When BentCore first began, they chose to use plasma to power the entire island, by simply conducting small amounts electrical and heat energy through a large amount of the substance, in a colossal container, increasing the speed of the ions rebounding off each other, producing even more energy. Plasma was used in this process simply because of its semi-freely moving electrons, allowing them to be swapped in a less organized, faster and much more erratic manner. Using this system of energy amplification and modification, the unbelievable friction energy produced by the rapidly swapping electrons and rebounding ions, BentCore was able to exponentially increase efficiency by simply converting the thermal energy to electrical energy.
In this way, BentCore only needed six cores for the entire island… and Anthony was staring at one of them. As he neared it, he felt the extreme amount of heat pressing itself into him. The kind of heat that made his every breath seem like he was running a marathon. Looking up, he saw that the core stretched on for at least five stories, bathing the walls around it in glorious light.
“Anthony!” Reeves called over to him, “Come take a look at these blueprints!”
Anthony turned and jogged over to where the Sergeant Major stood, holding a data pad.
“Yeah?” Anthony said.
“I’m confused,” Reeves said, “I thought you said there was a cargo elevator here, that we could take to level C6. But I’m not seeing anything on these blueprints.”
“What are you talking about, I marked our path in red…” Anthony’s voice trailed off as he saw the blueprints. The red path he had integrated into the blueprints to mark their trail they would take ran straight into a wall, “What the hell? There was an elevator there when I inputted the line!”
“Doesn’t look like it to me,” Reeves said, “Where do we go now?”
“Wait a minute, I need to find another elevator that’s large enough to carry this many people…” Anthony said.
A loud clanking sound echoed from down the tunnel they had just come from… the elevator had hit their floor. The four military squads at the rear of the mass of people readied themselves for the oncoming tide. They knew their lives were over, and any onlookers would be able to see it too. Each had an H7 in hand and a shock grenade in the other, both one-shot weapons.
“Anthony, find a god damn route!” Greg urged him.
“You aren’t helping!” Anthony shouted back, his fingers sliding across the screen like window wipers, searching desperately for a way out.
“Shortings, Gray, Beluven!” Reeves shouted to three of the six soldiers in his squad.
“Sir!” They answered in unison.
“Find a vantage point, high up on the right. Scope ‘em out,” Reeves ordered them.
“Aye, sir!” The three ran off for the right side of the gigantic tunnel.
“Callaghan, Jasper, Holt!”
“Sir!”
“Same thing, position left.”
“Aye sir!” They nodded and moved to their position.
“There!” Anthony shouted, much louder than he had intended, “Take that walkway until you reach your second left, turn there. Take that walkway to the end and you’ll find four cargo elevators.”
“Mark that path,” Jake said, walking up beside him and handing him an assault rifle, “I’ve got a feeling a lot of these people aren’t gonna make it out of here…”
Anthony pressed the screen of the data pad a few more times before slipping it into his pocket and clutching the offered weapon. As his head turned upwards, he saw how difficult this next step was going to be.
“Jake, Greg, Reeves! I need you both to stand in the way of the other tunnels with me! These people are cattle now, they won’t be able to hear us, so we need to herd them into that one tunnel!”
“Got it!” Jake said, he, Greg and Reeves running to stand beside the plasma core, blocking the progress of anyone trying to head that way.
At that moment, all hell broke loose. Multiple sounds of gunfire and flashes of shock grenades echoed to their ears from the direction of the cargo elevators. The people who, only seconds before, were standing, stupefied, frozen in their tracks with fear, were now stampeding towards them, propelled by that same feeling.

Beta Twelve, perched on elevated, metal grate platforms, with flimsy, fire escape staircases leading up to them, were firing off bursts into the cloud of Contaminated. The rounds would take down one or two at a time, but more and more flooded into the tunnels from the other elevators.
“Abandon positions! Herd these people into that tunnel!” Reeves instructed his team. They were too far away, however, to hear his commands, and with the mounting uproar of screaming people and discharging weapons, there would be no way to reach them in time.
“Get the fuck out of the way!” One woman managed to bark at Greg, Reeves and Jake before they were forced to dive out of the way. Reeves and Jake landed in a confused mess of body parts in the closest tunnel. Greg was closest to the core, however, and didn’t manage to make it before he was knocked to the cold, hard concrete by the seething horde.
Jake turned to pull him to his feet, but instead saw thousands of legs pumping viciously in desperation. Every once in a while he caught glimpses of Greg, and every time his face had more blood and bruises on it. He was ready to rush into the raging river of flesh and bone, when Reeves’ hand rested on his shoulder, holding him back.
“You need to think for yourself, Jake. That boy ain’t makin’ it outta there alive…” Reeves told him, shaking his head slowly.
Jake eased back, tearing his eyes from the frequent glimpses of the bloodied mound.
“We need to get to Anthony, there’s no way.”
“We’ll find a way,” Reeves said.

“This way! In here!” Anthony called desperately to the unhearing river, “It’s the only way out!”
There was no use, the minds of those caught up in the multitude of bodies were focused on one thing: escape. They had no mind to listen to Anthony.
Scraping turned his attention upwards, to a new obstacle he needed to overcome. Sheets of steel were peeled back like banana rinds and hulks of mobilized TitanChrome dropped like apples from a tree into the crowd of running, shrieking people. Blood sprayed as the Contaminated completely pulverized everyone in a twenty-foot radius.
A tear ran down Anthony’s cheek and vomit surfaced in his throat to see such destruction and desecration of his race. He brought his assault rifle to his shoulder, resting his cheek against the crest of the weapon, the scope lining up with his eye. EMP rounds blew holes into the Contaminated’s empty faces, dropping them to the ground. More than half of his shots missed, but he didn’t care. A crazed smile creased his weary features… revenge was imminent.
The solid ground beneath his tired feet shook violently. Anthony turned just in time to see a Contaminated knock the gun from his hand, knocking him to the ground as surely as if he had been hit by a train. It reached down, grasping his neck and hoisting him back up. He stood face to face with the beast.
It was then that Anthony saw what Jake meant by their eyes. It wasn’t the contours of its face, for there were none, but his mind… his immense fear, projected the image. Eyes black as a shark’s, and filled with the hatred and hell of a thousand burning people. They bore into his soul and his mind, rendering everything he knew, and everything he was, useless.
The brute wrapped its other monstrous arm about his chest and turned, carrying him off.
Why am I not dead? a thought pierced the horror in his consciousness, bringing him back to life. Anthony struggled against the grasp, but he was held as if he were welded in place. He looked upwards, watching as the cold, metal face stared straight forward, its objective clear in its mind.
Anthony managed to turn his head enough to see what was behind him, and it confused him even more: six Contaminated were following him, leaving the destruction and carnage to follow the one that was carrying him.
Two of them stopped and fell, the rest turning and facing the new enemy. A shock grenade went off, illuminating the other four in a blinding glow, their circuits popping and sizzling, and their TitanChrome skin charring to a mixture of dull black and shining grey. One Contaminated ceased to function. An H7 round hit another mid-chest, dropping it to the ground. The remaining two raised their arms, firing off glowing, blue spark rounds and shining EMP rounds into the wreckage outside the tunnel. This time Anthony saw what was going on: the four military teams that were still alive, Beta Twelve, Alpha Four, Delta Seven, and Theta Four, were providing covering fire as Jake and Anthony turned around the corner, shooting well-aimed bursts into the last two Contaminated in the hall. The Contaminated holding Anthony started running, even though Contaminated didn’t have fear, it was running, adding to Anthony’s mounting questions.
The metal creature lunged forward awkwardly as it was also struck with a multitude of EMP rounds. Anthony felt the pulses pass into his mechanical arm, freezing it up. As they crashed to the ground, the monster’s grasp was released.
“Anthony, get up now, we need to get out of here,” Jake said to him, pulling him to his feet.
“Beta Twelve! Let’s go!” Reeves commanded. The team, now consisting of only three, Callaghan, Jasper, and Gray, came sprinting down the hall towards him.
“You got a gun for me?” Anthony asked. Jake handed him the same MS14 he had dropped earlier. As soon as Anthony had it in his grasp, he strode over to stand above the head of the Contaminated that had been carrying him.
“You guys go ahead, I’ll catch up in just one second,” Anthony said, pointed his gun at the creature’s neck, and held the trigger, shooting off a steady stream of bullets into it. The head rolled off after a few moments. He bent over and grabbed it.
Anthony ran off, still looking at the TitanChrome head, “I’ll get my answers.”

C H A P T E R IX
P r o g n a t u s

The chattering of gunfire had faded into the distance long ago; the scene ran over and over in Anthony’s mind. It refused to leave him be, urging on his thought process, nagging at him to solve the problem.
“We need to get to one of the production facilities,” Anthony blurted into the silence of the cargo elevator they had just recently stepped into.
“Why?” Jake asked.
“There’s answers in this head that I… we need to know.”
Reeves piped in, “Anthony, you said yourself, we need to get to the Office, won’t there be enough answers there?”
“I don’t think so… I mean… yes… there will be. But I’ve got the feeling I’ll need to know something first, in order to understand what we’ll find there.”
“So basically, you want to know them sooner,” Jake said, “Love to help you, but those facilities will be swarming with C.T.s and Contaminated. Get your ego out of this, Anthony. We’ll figure everything out when we get to the Office.”
“Well, I guess you don’t have to come with me then, but I’m going,” Anthony said, “There’s something important in this head, and I’m gonna find out what it is.”
The elevator eased to a halt and the doors slid open. All six of them stepped out of the elevator with their guns at the ready, in a diamond formation to reduce the target presented, but still give them maximum firing range. There was nothing.
“I’m getting really, god damn sick of seeing nothing but grey walls and white letters telling me where I am,” Reeves said.
“Yeah… no kidding,” Jake reciprocated.
“Well,” Anthony said, retrieving the data pad from his pocket, looking down, and plotting his course, “I’ll be off pretty soon.”
“Well, hell Anthony! You can’t just walk off like that. I’m gonna have to save your ass pretty soon anyways,” Jake said, “Guess I’ll come with you.”
“Looks like we’re with you too, then,” Reeves said, speaking for Beta Twelve.
“The nearest production facility is about half a mile from here. Follow me and keep our guns at the ready,” Anthony told them.
“No offense, but we’re soldiers, so telling us to keep our guns up is kind of redundant,” Gray said to him with a smirk, motioning to the rest of his team.
“Gray,” Reeves said.
“Yes, sir?” the soldier replied.
“Shut up.”
“Yes, sir…”
Behind them, the elevator began its descent.
“Shit, let’s go,” Jake said.

Their heels clicked against the concrete, each tap propelling them forward. They were following the main tunnels on level C6, the plotted path on the data pad disappearing as they progressed. Private Jasper from Beta Twelve scouted ahead, they could see her in the distance as she turned the next corner.
“I still don’t see why we can’t do this at the Office. They have plenty technology there,” Reeves said.
“This facility we’re heading to is closer, plus they have the right technology to crack open this egg and see what’s inside,” Anthony said, “These are the places Jake and I worked in when we first came here.”
“And you’re sure it’ll be safe enough?” Reeves asked.
“Not at all,” Jake smiled.
In the distance, Jasper’s thin, feminine form turned back around the corner. She raised her hand in their direction, raised two fingers and flicked them towards her twice. She then turned her palm outward and pushed towards them. Her gloved hand fell back to hug the handle of one of her Hawk SMGs, hanging on a strap wrapped around her shoulder.
“Which means?” Anthony asked.
“Proceed with caution,” Callaghan stated simply.
“Thanks…” Anthony said slowly, surprised by the cool, unexpressive detachedness in his voice.
Callaghan didn’t answer, he continued on his intended course, gun resting at his hip.
“Status?” Reeves asked the girl in hushed tones as they neared her position.
“No unfriendlies sighted, sir. But who knows, they could be anywhere,” Jasper responded in a collected, military tone.
“Can you see the lab entrance?” Reeves asked.
“Gotta be honest with you, sir. I’m not quite sure what I’m looking for…” Jasper said, wincing slightly, as if expecting to be scolded.
Anthony cut in, “We won’t be able to see it yet, there’s a staircase that we need to follow. We’ll also have to pass through a couple of high-security doorways.”
“You’ve got clearance for that, right?” Gray asked.
“Well… yes and no. I have clearance for one, but for the other, we need a leading instructor. Someone with clearance above Class 3.”
“That would’ve been nice to know earlier,” Jake put in.
“It’s no big deal, a shock grenade will do the trick,” Reeves said.
“You sure, Sergeant Major?” Gray asked.
“I know how those doors work, a well placed grenade will easily fry those controls, and with all of us, we can just pry it open.”
They left it at that when Jasper disappeared around the corner. Anthony peered around the concrete wall to see Jasper running as fast as she could for a staircase on the left of the path. His hand reached down into his pocket to retrieve the data pad once more. One quick check and he saw that she was heading exactly where they needed to go. This struck Anthony as odd: he had only told her that they were looking for a staircase, and out of the three staircases in their immediate vicinity, she had chosen the correct one…
“Move,” Reeves said to Anthony, nudging his back. Anthony did as he was told, following Jasper’s path exactly.
When he was nearing the middle of his sprint, a sound like thunder exploded from above him, along with chunks of concrete larger than him. Anthony looked up just in time to block an especially large piece with his TitanChrome arm. His whole body shuddered under the impact, painful waves of shock splaying across his nervous system. He fell.
Two, hulking, dark forms dropped to the ground and raised their arms while maintaining crouching positions. A hand reached out and grabbed his chest with an iron grip. The head Anthony had been holding flew from under his arm. With his hand now free, Anthony threw a vicious right hook that caught the Contaminated in its face. The creature was stunned for mere seconds before wrapping his other hand around Anthony’s arms.
“Reeves! Jasper! Jake! Help, god damn it!” Anthony screamed as loud as he could manage. No one answered. Nothing happened.
The Contaminated stood and leapt back up through the hole to the next floor. To his left, Anthony could see the production facility jutting from the side of the tunnel. It looked like nothing more than a rounded, steel outcropping, but to an experienced onlooker, it was one of many birthplaces of C.T.s.
Anthony’s left hand still gripped the handle of his MS14 assault rifle. The shoulder rest was caught under the giant’s hand, preventing him from shooting at any crucial areas. With all the strength Anthony’s mechanical, right arm could afford, he slid his hand up to the release for the shoulder rest.
In one swift movement, the gun was dislodged from the Contaminated’s grip; Anthony swung it upwards using his wrist and started spilling deadly electromagnetic pulse rounds into its stomach. Tubes exploded, gas hissing out as the joints decompressed, the Contaminated hunched over and collapsed, all strength leaving its TitanChrome muscles. Anthony rolled from its hands, grabbing the shoulder rest and reattaching it. Another five rounds pierced the next Contaminated’s chest armor; it fell. Anthony released his empty magazine and swung the gun back over his shoulder to rest along his back.
When he dropped back down the hole he saw the other five, including Jasper, trying to pile the concrete blocks on top of each other to get up the hole.
“C’mon, let’s get to the facility,” Anthony said. They all turned their heads to him with confused expressions, except Jake, who rolled his eyes and said, “I was sure I’d have to save your ass again.”
Anthony shrugged and ran over to retrieve the head he had been carrying earlier.
They made it through the security doors without issue and entered the dark room. Jake brushed his fingers against a pad sitting on the wall. The screen flashed a deep green, light rays clawed out at his face, scanning his physical features. A few seconds passed before a picture of Jake appeared on the screen, underneath it read: “P5913J7 SELLICK, JACOB FERRYN CLASS 1 SUPERVISOR… STUDENT… GRADUATED”. Jake then flipped open a number pad and entered a series of numbers and letters. The screen cleared and three words scrolled onto the screen: “COMPLETE ACCESS GRANTED”. Instantly, blue lights flickered on in a circle formation around the edges of the room. White lights accompanied these, highlighting the blue and making absolutely everything in the room blindingly visible.
In the center was a large, round surface surrounded by some sort of glass or plastic dome. On trays there were tools, some were scalpels, needles and saws, others resembled crosses between maniacal dentist equipment and welding guns. Machines stood everywhere, some medical, others used for scanning or restraining. On desks around the circumference of the room were paper-thin, touch screen computers, excluding one area, which contained about fifteen CATC crates.
“Are those…?” Reeves asked Anthony.
“C.T.s? Yes they are,” Anthony answered, “But don’t worry, they haven’t been activated yet.”
“Can they be deactivated?” Gray asked.
“Yep,” Jake said.
“So… wouldn’t we be able to deactivate the Contaminated?” Gray inquired.
“Have you ever tried getting close to one without being killed?” Jake said.
“I mean couldn’t we deactivate them all at the same time?”
“Nope, they have to be deactivated one at a time, and they have to be cooperating. Because getting into their brain when they aren’t is pretty, god damn difficult.”
Anthony walked over to the circular platform in the middle and slid open the transparent dome. The head bounced once then rolled to rest in the center of the table. He grabbed one of the portable trays and rolled it towards himself, relieving one tool of its position on the tray. It had a blade on it with conducting wires running up both sides of it.
“Activate the tray for me, Jake,” Anthony said.
“Sure thing.”
Jake reached over and pressed a button on the tray. The knife flared blue then sunk into a comfortable turquoise. All six of them could feel the immense heat pouring from the blade. Anthony lowered the knife to the TitanChrome skull, piercing its smooth surface with a perfectly straight and accurate cut. Anthony painted a triangle shape on the top of the head.
“Hand me the other knife,” Anthony said.
“One sec,” Jake said.
In a few minutes, Anthony had dug a large hole in the metal cranium, revealing intricate circuitry beneath.
“Where’s the brain?” Gray asked.
“This is the inside of it,” Jake answered.
“That’s strange…” Anthony said, reaching into the head with a pair of long, reinforced tweezers. He fished around for a few seconds before clamping down on an object and slowly dragging his hand out. It was a miniscule, black ball, no larger than a human’s pinky fingernail, with a blue cord running off it.
“What the hell?!” Jake said, astonished.
“What… what’s wrong?” Reeves inquired.
“It’s a hostility inhibitor…” Anthony said slowly, then reached down and pulled a similar object out, this one red.
“And that’s an allegiance processor,” Jake put in.
“I thought these things were just… loose,” Reeves said.
“This only partly answers my question,” Anthony said.
“What question?” Jake asked.
“Well, ever since I heard that message the Contaminated received, before attacking the hospital, I had wondered something: Who ordered the override of the Protocol Memory? There had to be someone, Contaminated cannot make decisions like that on their own.”
“And you didn’t bring this up earlier… why?” Reeves asked, seeming suspicious.
“I didn’t know who to trust,” Anthony responded honestly, “But now I don’t think it matters, I don’t think there’s much we can do about this…”
“Is there any way to figure out who they’re allegiant to?” Callaghan asked.
“Yes, we can scan the processor, but if they’re within BentCore, which they must be, then that kind of information can be easily restricted,” Anthony said.
“Try,” Jasper said.
“I guess,” Anthony grabbed another machine and placed the allegiance processor underneath the beam that protruded from it. “BentCore” was all that scrolled across the screen.
“Search deeper, the Core Memory. There has to be more answers in there,” Jake suggested.
“Or more questions.”
Anthony retrieved another device from inside, a 3 cm. long, black cylinder with hundreds of wires running from it. Anthony took a pair of wire clippers and shaved all the wires off.
“This is basically the nucleolus for the nucleus, the nut for the nutshell,” Anthony said, “The Core Memory. Get me the large scanner with the D2 Core Processing Computer attached to it.”
Anthony pressed down on the precipice of the cylinder and it opened like a fan. He placed it onto the surface of the scanning unit and took up post at the touch screen computer.
Information ran wildly across the screen, Anthony storing every piece of it in different folders for later inspection, until something caught his well-trained eye. The screen halted on the title page for a highly classified project, the only bolded word visible read “Prognatus”.
“What the hell is Prognatus?” Anthony asked.
“It’s the Latin word for ‘born’,” Callaghan said.
“Born? That better not mean what I hope it means…” Jake said, “Try to open the file.”
“All it has is a place for a password, how am I supposed to know what it is?” Anthony said.
“Try ‘BentCore’,” Reeves suggested.
“Way too easy,” Then something sparked in Anthony’s mind. He thought back to his other questions, and one of them stood out: Why did they keep me alive?
He started typing, the letters appearing on the screen. Somehow he knew he was right.
“p7889e4”
He tapped the “enter” button on the screen. Files upon files of pictures, information, and codes splayed themselves across the screen. He saw blueprints of the inner workings of a TitanChrome, right arm that astounded him.
“This technology is… beyond belief… it’s amazing… it’s deadly,” Anthony said.
“What is it?” Jake asked.
“It’s a C.T. reproduction system, to multiply efficiency of the Contamination Project. Basically, in simple terms, C.T.s grow off fully developed Contaminated parts.”
“Why hasn’t that been happening to all those Contaminated out there?” Reeves asked.
“Well, there isn’t sufficient information here to duplicate the Prognatus experiment.”
“Why is this so important then?” Jake asked.
“According to this… I was the only test subject.”

Next time post it in a PDF. because this is known as spam and the forum reads like shit.

This isn't spam...


Very long, but very entertaining. If I got the time to read it all, I will.

Not reading this shit....

Who here actually has?

me.