Morrow sat in his high backed chair, grinning at the success of his plan. He might not have been smiling so much if he knew about the research wing’s supply room. This was the one room in the research lab that didn’t have a security camera, and it was here that a young girl named Diana huddled in a corner, listening to the screams of her dying co-workers. At first she was frozen in fear, afraid to move. Afraid to breathe. But as the screams died off, Diana slowly gathered the nerve to move.
The supply room was large, with everything from buckets to scalpels being stored on large shelves that lined the walls and ran down the center of the room. Taking a few deep breaths and counting slowly to 10, Diana calmed herself and started to focus on the situation. This was a trick her parents taught her when they saw that she was getting frustrated or upset, and it worked well under the circumstances.
As her breathing returned to normal and her heart stopped racing, she turned her mind to the task of getting out of this situation alive.
Diana was a young woman at only 26, and was in good physical condition. She had short black hair, green eyes, fair skin, and a smile that could get her free drinks at the local bar all night long. That is, if the local bar still existed.
Before the zombie outbreak, she spent most of her time outdoors either hiking, jogging or bicycling. But those were things that could get you killed in the new zombie filled world. So she did most of her exercising inside of the Chemcorp complex, where she’d been living for the past year. Push-ups, sit-ups, and jogging in the hallways or around the perimeter of her building were her main means of fitness, and it had kept her in pretty decent shape.
When the zombie apocalypse first broke out, the research staff at Chemcorp was immediately sequestered and confined to the complex. Some workers managed to slip through security, but they likely died before they ever reached their loved ones. Diana wasn’t one of the staff who wanted to leave. Her closest family was in Florida, and she lived alone in an apartment complex near Valley Forge. She really didn’t have anyone to run to if she left the complex, so staying seemed like the safest and most logical course of action. And Diana was a very logical person. She had the ability to see both sides of a situation, and was always able to make a rational, logical decision based on the information at hand.
As she stood in the center of the supply room, Diana started checking the supplies, looking for anything that might be useful for getting her to safety.
“Safety?” she thought to herself. “Is there any place safe right now?”
The zombies had somehow made it inside of the complex, which seemed impossible. The fences were secure, and security maintained constant patrols on the entire perimeter of the grounds. How the zombies got in was beyond her, but she couldn’t worry about that now. She had a problem and she need to focus all of her attention on getting out of this room alive.
Diana snapped herself back to the present and focused on the task at hand. Looking through the dozens of shelves that filled the room, she found little that could be used as a weapon. Various chemicals filled the shelves, but none that she figured would be of any real effectiveness against the numerous undead that lurked in the nearby rooms. Extra lab coats, beakers, Bunsen burners, and petri dishes were all there. And all were useless against the walking dead, but a lab coat could come in handy. Grabbing one, she set it aside and kept looking, slowly and methodically checking each and every shelf. It wasn’t like she was going anywhere fast, so she made herself take her time, being careful not to make any noise that might draw the attention of the undead.
After 15 minutes of searching, Diana discovered a large toolbox in the far corner of the room, on the bottom of a shelving unit, behind a box of towels.
“It must belong to one of the maintenance workers. Probably left it here for a future work order,” she thought.
Opening the box she found a variety of tools, including screwdrivers, wrenches, wire cutters and a hammer. In addition, she found duct tape, electrical tape, box cutters, heavy-duty scissors, safety goggles, a metal punch and a penlight. All of these items she set aside, laying them out carefully on the floor next to the shelf.
Continuing her search, she found a box of biohazard bags used for disposing of contaminated items. She took one of the bags and set in on the floor next to the lab coat and grabbed the duct tape. Using the tape, she reinforced the edges and bottom of the bag and placed two, three-inch sections of tape at the top corners of the bags open end, on both sides. She doubled up these tape sections for added strength, then took the box cutter and cut a small slit into each of the sections, cutting through both the tape and the bag. She then grabbed the lab coat belt and slid it through the holes, fashioning a shoulder strap that she tied off and taped closed on each end.
Moving to the lab coat, she took the scissors and cut the coat to a waist length, eliminating excess fabric that could be grabbed by the dead. Putting the coat on, she double checked the length and, satisfied with her work, grabbed the duct tape again. This time she proceeded to wrap both of her forearms in multiple layers of the tape. Holding her arm up to her mouth, she bit down to see if the layers were strong enough. She winced slightly in pain as she bit down hard, but the tape held up. She followed by wrapping her pant legs, below her knees, in a similar fashion. Her makeshift armor should give her some measure of protection in the event of a close encounter of the worst kind. She’d likely get a nasty bruise, but the duct tape armor would protect against a deadly, skin penetrating bite.
Her attention now turned to the jeans she was wearing. Grabbing the scissors, she cut all the belt loops off of the jeans, ensuring that no zombie would have a finger hold to grab onto if they got too close.
Lastly, she gathered up all of the toolbox items she had laid out on the floor and put them into her biohazard bag. Smiling at her handy work, she turned her mind to the most pressing issue remaining – how to escape the lab.
Diana could hear the zombies milling about the lab on the other side of the door. So far they were oblivious to her presence inside the storage room, and she intended to keep it that way. Standing near the door, she took out a pencil she had found in the toolbox and started to draw a layout of the lab on a legal tablet she had found on one of the shelves. After a few minutes, she stopped drawing and looked at the map.
“This is not good,” she said to herself.
The map showed a clear layout of the lab, along with the storage room. Included on the map were all the exits and any access doors, along with a drawing of adjacent hallways.
Diana looked at the map again and shook her head in despair. The storage room entrance was at the far corner of the lab. To get to the hallway that would take her to the main entrance of the research building, she’d need to traverse 75 feet of open lab space. Lab space that was crawling with the undead.
She put her ear to the door and listened for a minute. Based on what she heard, she conservatively estimated that at least 20 zombies were lurking in the lab, and she knew that many of them were former co-workers. Maybe, if she had a clear shot to the hallway, she could sprint to the exit. She was a fast runner, and she was pretty quick and agile. But the lab was full of lab tables and equipment, which made any possibility of escape through the room virtually impossible, especially with that many zombies milling about. No, making a run for it would be suicide. She’d have to figure out another way.
Turning her attention back to the storage room she began to examine the ceiling and walls. She could easily climb one of the shelving units to access the ceiling panels, but she wasn’t sure if the panel braces would support her weight. Walking to the back of the room, her heart started racing when she discovered an air conditioning access grate in the corner of the ceiling. All she had to do was move one of the shelving units to the corner and she could easily climb up, unscrew the grate, and climb into the duct.
Turning to the nearest shelf, she suddenly realized the flaw in her plan. The shelves in the stor
age room were of the heavy-duty variety, capable of holding hundreds of pounds of weight on each shelf. They would easily hold her weight for climbing to the duct, but they were also very heavy. She wondered if she could even move one by herself.
Going to the nearest shelf, Diana quickly started removing all the items, eliminating as much weight as possible. Once this was complete, she grabbed the lower supports of the shelf and started to pull. The shelf slid across the floor about six inches, screeching loudly in protest.
“Shit!” exclaimed Diana in a loud whisper.
But it was too late. Within seconds of the metal screech, the first of the dead were pounding on the storage room door. Where the main lab doors were of a high impact, shatterproof glass, the storage room door was a relatively thin wooden door that simply closed off the storage room from the main lab. The room didn’t contain anything of great value, so there was no reason to install a more secure door. It had a normal door lock that was enough for normal every day use, but not enough to withstand an onslaught of hungry undead. The mass of zombies would easily break through in a matter of minutes!
In a rush of adrenaline, Diana grabbed the shelf and pulled with all her might. The shelf slid loudly across the floor, but she barely heard it over the pounding of dead hands. The moans were growing louder by the second as more zombies swarmed the door, desperate to get inside.
As Diana pulled the shelf near the corner of the room, she stopped a few feet short of the wall and gave the shelf a hard push. It slammed heavily against the wall, forming a makeshift ladder to the ceiling grate. Running back to the center of the room, she grabbed her biohazard bag and slung it over her shoulder. Carefully, she climbed up the shelf until she was at the grate. It was held in place by four Philips head screws, one on each corner. Quickly she reached into her bag and pulled out the Philips head screwdriver she’d found in the toolbox. Trying not to panic, she started to unscrew the first screw. Fortunately, it came loose on the first try and she was able to remove it quickly and easily.
But her relief was short lived as she heard the sound of cracking as the door began to feel the strain of the mass of undead on the other side. Turning back to the grate, she began to work on the second screw. As with the first, it came loose quickly and was soon dropping to the floor.
With two screws out, she attempted to pull the grate down enough to climb through, but in her haste, she had removed the wrong screws first. Pulling the grate down actually blocked her way. Now she needed to remove the other two screws and take the entire grate out.
Turning to the third screw, Diana’s panic level began to rise. The moans of the dead were at a fever pitch, and she could see the doorframe beginning to splinter under their weight and numbers. The third screw came loose and fell to the floor.
“One more to go,” she said aloud.
Turning to the final screw, her heart sank as the screwdriver slipped from her hand and fell to the floor, bouncing twice before sliding to a halt under a shelf in the center of the room!
Jumping from the shelves, Diana hit the floor and scrambled after the screwdriver. But no sooner had she hit the floor when she heard another loud crack. The framework was giving way. She only had seconds to act!
Running towards the door, she grabbed the closest shelf to the door and pulled with all her might. The shelf came crashing down, scattering boxes and supplies across the floor. She turned and grabbed the next shelf in line and pulled hard, sending it crashing next to the first. Then it happened. The doorframe splintered and gave way as the door flew open, hitting the fallen shelves. The door was only able to open about a foot as undead arms reached inside the room. Dead hands clawed frantically at the door as Diana stumbled backwards at the horrors confronting her. The smell of a human sent the zombies into a frenzy, their numbers pressing against the door. They were pushing with such force that some of the zombies against the door were crushed by the onslaught, their skulls and bones breaking with a sickening sound. Slowly, the shelves started to move, widening the gap in the door. Soon grotesque faces started appearing in the gap, their moans escalating at the site of living flesh.
Diana knew she only had seconds remaining to escape. Turning to the middle shelves, she threw her full body weight against them, toppling one after another. Her shoulder screamed in pain from the impact, but she didn’t stop. Another shelf toppled and there sat the screwdriver. Snatching the tool, she turned and grabbing one final shelf, pulled it down as she sprinted for the grate. She had just mounted the shelf ladder when the door gave way completely, the shelves sliding backwards with the onrush of undead. Putting the screwdriver in her mouth, she scrambled up to the grate, focusing on the final screw.
The dead poured through the doorway, staggering and falling on toppled shelves. Diana worked frantically on the final screw, turning the screwdriver as quickly as she dared without dropping it. As the screw neared its final turns, she threw the screwdriver back into her bag and turned the screw by hand, holding the grate as she did. Looking over her shoulder, Diana screamed in horror. A sea of undead was crawling over one another in an effort to get to her. The closest of the zombies cleared the last shelf and moved forward, its eyes on the prize. The creature reached the shelves and lunged for Diana’s leg, just as the grate came free. In one fluid motion she swung the grate down into the zombie’s head, crushing the skull and spraying brain matter against the wall. The zombie dropped to the floor as two more closed in.
Wasting no time, Diana launched herself through the opening. Pulling herself into the duct, she felt dead hands clamp onto her ankle as she desperately tried to escape. Screaming, she frantically kicked as the zombie sought to pull its catch closer. Her hands reached out, looking for something to grab onto, but she only found smooth metal. She could feel herself being pulled backwards as she screamed in terror. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a screwdriver and drove it into the ductwork. This provided just enough leverage to stop her backward movement towards the dead. Holding onto the first screwdriver, she reached into her bag and pulled out another. Driving it into the thin metal, she pulled with all her might, finally breaking free as she slid into the safety of the duct.
Diana collapsed inside the ductwork, tears streaming from her eyes as she sobbed uncontrollably from the near death experience. She’d been living in the zombie apocalypse for nearly a year, but had never been exposed to the undead in this way. The thought of becoming one of them was still fresh in her mind as she lay sobbing on her stomach, listening to the moans beneath her. Gathering herself, she once again slowly counted to 10, calming her frazzled nerves and relaxing her mind. She may have escaped the immediate threat, but she wasn’t out of the woods yet.
The unthinkable had happened back in the lab, and that’s what didn’t make any sense. Zombies had invaded the building. Not just one, but dozens. The security of Chemcorp was always top notch since the apocalypse started, and they kept constant surveillance on the perimeter of the buildings. Patrols kept an eye on the fences to make sure no breaches occurred, and as a result, no undead ever made it to the buildings.
Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. Why hadn’t security responded when the zombies broke in? They have video cameras mounted throughout the complex, and numerous cameras watching the lab at all times. They should have seen what was happening and come to their aid. They should have responded long before the zombies reached the lab. None of this made any sense, and Diana needed to know why.
Before the zombie massacre, the research team was making significant progress in their efforts to find a vaccine for the zombie virus. Now all that research would be lost. She had to find a way to recover the data.
Within minutes, Diana had come up with a plan . . .