Chapter 14: In the Dead Room

The closest room they explored was the firing range, directly to their left upon entering this area of the precinct's basement. The sound of a door being loudly knocked from deeper within kept Claire and Rick on edge. Fortunately, the space was confined, with only one approach for potential enemies.

Looking left, behind the firing booth, Rick spotted a box of incendiary grenades for his partner’s launcher. Lighting the dark shape with his flashlight confirmed it, along with another dead body.

"Claire," he whispered. A slight lateral movement of her head told him she’d heard. "One down inside the firing zone."

She let the launcher hang against her stomach and drew her revolver. "Got it."

Walking to the reception desk at the end of the room, she aimed left. Rick joined her and instinctively mimicked her stance. A dozen feet ahead, a door strained under heavy impacts, clearly about to give way.

Three more knocks and it did. A heavyset zombie in police uniform stumbled through the frame, another close behind. Rick fired first, a half second sooner. His bullet struck the second zombie in the right temple, making it recoil.

Claire had shot the first one’s kneecap; already off balance, it fell face down. She drew her knife from her shoulder holster and crouched to finish it. Meanwhile, Rick lined up a second and third shot into the other undead, dropping it. From its stillness, it seemed truly dead.

Looking down, he saw Claire was also done. She pulled her blade from the corpse’s spine, then stabbed it through the ear for good measure.

"Two down," she whispered loudly.

He kept his voice at the same level. "Careful with the third."

After a nod, she moved out of sight. Instead of following her through the door, he backtracked toward the booths. He arrived just in time to see her kick the third threat off its feet and knife it to death. One of his eyes remained fixed on the room’s main entrance, wary of more monsters drawn by the gunfire.

Rather than circling back, Claire hopped over the booth. "I found shotgun shells too."

He felt a tug on his back as she opened a pouch to stash the ammo. They quickly searched the rest of the place. The lockers behind the fenced reception area were inaccessible, sealed by another Diamond key door. Through the gaps, they spotted a red herb and nothing else.

On a table near spectator benches, Rick found a broken car key inside a yellow box with a note attached. He warned Claire, then tucked it into his overalls pocket.

With nothing else to do, they exited and turned left to check the stairs to the first floor. Their luck held: the passage was blocked by a thick, heavy electrical door.

Rick stared at the blocked path to their right, leading to the power room. "Not going that way anytime soon."

"Maybe from the morgue side?" Claire sounded hopeful.

"I…" He was going to say he would not count on it, but changed his mind. Morale mattered. "I think it’s a good idea. If we don’t find a Diamond key for the elevator, getting that door working could be a solid alternative."

They backtracked to the garage entrance and turned left down the corridor toward the morgue. Luck was decidedly not on their side. The way was blocked again. That left only the kennels to reach the other side.

Seeing Rick’s grimace, Claire understood his reluctance. He noticed her look and explained.

"I hate zombie dogs."

Remembering how he’d been introduced to this whole mess, she could not blame him. She picked up the blue herb from a small pot near the blockade and stored it in the bag.

Rick shuddered. "At least there aren’t any giant spiders."

"How giant?"

"The size of a cow. Bulbous bodies, hair everywhere. They’re just…" He stopped himself and shook his head.

It was the first time she had seen him truly vulnerable. Hurt and weak, yes. But afraid and unsteady was new. She could sympathize.

"Yeah. I am not much of a fan either. I don’t squash them, but I catch them and throw them outside."

"Things are just nasty on top of ugly," he grumbled. Despite his reluctance, he walked toward the kennel entrance, stopping so abruptly Claire bumped into him.

"What is it?"

Rick pointed to a small open vent in the ground and put a finger to his lips. "Something is wrong," he whispered. "No moans, no grunts, no barking. And we should hear them through the vent."

She kept her voice low. "So either there are none inside, they’re all dead, or…"

"There is a bigger predator."

The most dangerous thing they had faced so far was the abomination in the boiler room, which had fallen down a chasm. Claire doubted it could have climbed back up, found another route to the kennel, and done so silently. That left only one other possibility. The second most lethal creature they had encountered in the station. One that had nearly killed her and severely injured Rick.

"Lickers," she exhaled, her hands tightening on the grenade launcher.

"Yeah. I would honestly prefer the dogs."

Rick took a deep breath and glanced at Claire. She understood and nodded.

Slowly, he opened the door a crack to peer inside. Their fears were confirmed. In the middle of the room, a licker was feasting on dog corpses. He closed the door and held up one finger to Claire.

"Moving around," he mouthed.

It was a plan she did not like, but it beat charging in blind, especially without knowing how many lickers lurked nearby. She made an "okay" sign with her hand. Rick opened the door fully this time.

His gun remained aimed at the monster as he moved slowly and silently, putting as much distance between them as possible. Claire followed close behind, her launcher trained the same way. If the licker so much as twitched, she would fire instantly.

Once they reached the opposite wall, they turned right and descended a few steps. While Rick looked ahead, he trusted Claire to watch the licker. Skirting around the dog cages, he slowed and placed a hand on her arm to get her attention.

Her body and weapon remained oriented toward the licker, but she glanced sideways, following his pointed finger. Above them, clinging to the ceiling, was another one. Its stillness was unnerving.

In silent agreement, Claire shifted her focus to the second creature. The dozen feet to the door at the far end felt like miles, but they made it. Once outside the kennel, they moved several paces from the frame before finally relaxing, breathing heavily.

"Jesus," she whispered. "I thought my heart would burst."

Rick had felt the same but did not say it. He did not want to break focus. They were about to enter a morgue likely full of undead. He waited for her to recover and regain her composure.

After a final deep breath, she nodded. Without hesitation, he eased the morgue door open a crack, just as he had with the kennel. He noted a body slumped against the wall to the side, unmoving. Widening the gap, he scanned the room more thoroughly.

He holstered his gun and drew the knife from his boot. Stepping inside, he grabbed the corpse’s hair. It suddenly moved and groaned. He drove the blade deep into its eye. When the zombie went limp, he released it, wiped the blade clean on its clothes, and sheathed it.

Claire entered and looked around. "Doesn’t seem like much to find."

"Maybe not, but it’s worth checking. If I were trapped here, low on ammo, food, with panicked survivors and infected everywhere, I would hide supplies where people would not think to look."

"Like… the lockers?" The realization hit Claire. He meant the body lockers. The idea made her skin crawl, but she could not dismiss it. "Let us check the rest of the room first."

"Gladly."

His eye caught a file near the zombie he had just killed. It looked like a report, so he picked it up, hoping it might indicate which lockers were occupied.

He called to Claire when he had finished. "Look at this."

She was across the room, separated by the lavatories. Leaning over, she took the paper and read aloud.

"Autopsy Record No. 53477

Name of Deceased: Justin Hanson

Male, Caucasian, 39 years old

Observations:

Found dead in jail cell bed by staff. Hands are still clenched tight due to rigor mortis, which should be coming to an end. It's highly likely that he died just after lights out.

Deceased was known as a kleptomaniac, incarcerated multiple times. Incredibly, he would steal even while in jail, though that was consistent with his clinical diagnosis."

"It’s slim, but it’s a lead. Maybe he had something useful," Rick said.

"Yeah. It strongly implies he died holding something." She turned to examine the name tags and numbers on the lockers. "It’s this one." She pointed to the second coffin from the left.

Rick joined her, knife in hand. With his shoulder injured, he could not pull the locker open, so Claire did. Her slight struggle confirmed something was inside. As the lid rose, feet appeared, then the rest of the corpse.

The moment the head was visible, Rick stabbed ruthlessly through the eye. The body jerked once, then stilled. He checked the zombie’s hands while Claire examined the other.

"Yes!" Her sudden cry of victory surprised him. "Somebody asked for a Diamond Key?"

Rick rubbed his wound, feeling a flare of pain. "Good find."

Claire gave him a worried look but said nothing. At his insistence, they checked the remaining lockers. They found another undead, which he dispatched, along with a red herb and another flashbang. Rick took the latter, strapping it next to the one on his hip. Using the relative safety of the room, he began mixing their herbs into powder.

Claire assisted eagerly: three green and red herbs, and one blue. He gave her the full color mixture and kept the two remaining, stashing them in a pouch.

Afterward, they made their way back. To their surprise and dread, the kennel was now empty. The two lickers were on the move. A very bad sign. They did not have to wonder where they had gone for long, however.

Exiting the room and rounding the corner, they spotted one on the ceiling. Stealthily, they passed beneath it unnoticed. At the next intersection, they chose to return to the firing range rather than turning left toward the garage. The second licker was also on the ceiling, near the metal door to the first floor.

They did not disturb that one either.

"This is bullshit," Claire hissed, searching the weapons locker behind the Diamond key door. "How can there not be even a single bullet? It’s a firing range, for god’s sake!"

The only items in the small room were the red herb they had seen earlier and a film roll.

"Story of my life," Rick muttered, though Claire did not hear.

They returned to the garage, wary of the lickers, and encountered no trouble. The trouble started inside.

"Fuuuuuuck." Rick let out a long breath, raising his gun.

Claire, who was silently closing the door behind them, turned to see what had put him in such a dismal mood. Dogs. Zombie dogs. At least half a dozen, gathered in a pack between the cars. They began moving forward, growling.

She did not think. Her body acted. The grenade launcher came up, and an incendiary round landed in the center of the pack. It exploded, taking down three. A fourth caught fire.

Rick did not miss the opening. He put bullets into the heads of the two unharmed dogs. Claire finished the burning one with a shot of her own.

He immediately spun, aiming at the door they had just come through. He stepped back and sideways, braced for a licker to burst through. Hearing no scream or roar, he lowered the gun.

"Nice shot," he praised.

Claire gave him a bright smile. "Thanks."

As she moved toward the elevator room, Rick stopped her. He held up the car key. A police car flashed its lights and beeped. Curious, she joined him as he checked the now open trunk.

"Nice."

"What is it?"

Rick showed her a semi automatic with a laser sight. He checked the magazine. It was full. He replaced the Beretta 92 at his hip with the new gun and handed the Beretta to Claire. She took it gladly. Her revolver was reliable, but six shots were limiting. The 92 held fifteen and was easier to reload.

Thinking other cars might hold more guns or ammo, they took time to search but found little: one full box of 9mm, a stray magazine under a passenger seat, and five shotgun shells. With five cars in the garage, it was underwhelming.

Inside the elevator control room, Claire was delighted to find a proper stock and iron sights for her grenade launcher, promising better aim and stability. Rick, for his part, found another blue herb and a box of fifty submachine gun rounds. He pocketed both.

With power restored to the elevator, the pair stepped inside and ascended, fearing what they might find in Irons’s office.