Vial #127

Chapter 37: Just our Luck

All of us are frozen, staring hopelessly at her. "How did this happen?" I whisper, thinking of the worse. Diana was in the cell-block; so is or was, my Father and Aiden. Furthermore, she was immune, I saw that with my very own eyes and yet here she is.

The disbelief in my body is awful. "I let this happen." I berate myself. It's Jamie who reacts first, ripping a pipe from the wall, running towards her and stabbing it in the brain. The blood pours out, spraying him red. A groan coming from her lips dies as her body falls to the ground, her eyes closing for the last time.

Jamie runs over, throwing the pipe to the side angrily. There are tears in his eyes. Diana was his first friend in just over a year. Now she was gone, lost forever. Right now, I still have no idea whether there was a breech and she was bit, or whether these people, these monsters did it to her as an experiment.

Jamie has her head in his lap, his face cradling her, his tears flowing onto her; just like I did with Peter. She didn't deserve this, not after all she'd been through. This wasn't right; we had to leave, as quick as possible. "Jamie, we have to go," I walk over, keeping my composure strong.

"We can't just leave her, she needs to be buried, have a funeral, it's what she deserves," I reach down to pull him off.

"We don't have time," I tell him, "besides Dad is in there, too. We could still get there in time, come on," I urge. He's thrashing around, but I manage to restrain him, calming his nerves until he just walks silently beside the group, holding in the attitude.

I try to hold his hand, to make him feel better, but his mind in broken, lost in grieving. His face is a blank slate, probably just remembering the memories he had with her. When I reach out, he pulls away, storming ahead with rage. I understand. I know just how he feels.

We come to the door with a guard in front, blocking us. He reaches for his radio but we all storm up in a warning. "Open the door," I reach out to point to the keypad while aggressively grabbing his walkie-talkie.

"This area is Classified," he says but I ignore him and instead order him to tell us where the weapons are. He refuses to speak.

Jackson goes up to him, giving him one last warning. He is forced to strangle the guard; first prying the helmet off, then repeatedly punching him in the face. His nose crunches sideways, spurting blood.

The rest of the skin on his face is now turning a pale red. His eyes are swollen, and bruising is already beginning to form. After more abuse and violence, the guard gives up. "Stop, stop! I'll do it!" he finally begs.

He manages to get up and leans against the door, entering the code. "Now unlock the doors with my Father and Aiden," I am stern, unwilling to deal with any comeback.

"Which ones?" He pulls out a sheet of paper with a photo of the prisoners and the cell number. I glance down the list to find my Father. He's at the farthest cell. Then there's a photo of Aiden but the number is blocked off, replaced by the hand written scrawl of MIA. "Where is he?" I demand, I feel my tear ducts swelling, opening to let out emotion.

"Yesterday, when the worst of the outbreak occurred," the guard begins. I feel my mind stop. It races to any number of possibilities. He was shot or killed by that stupid disease. "He escaped," the guard continues, "just ran out of the compound. Last I heard he was headed north."

I sigh with relief, collapsing to my knees. The droplets are now able to fall freely from my eyes; there was still hope. Jackson swings me up with bloody hands and turns to pushing the guard down the hall toward the last door.

"Open it," the guard hesitates, still pondering the thought of escaping this mess, "I said open it," Jackson's voice is hostile, filling the entire room with bitter fury. The guard fumbles with his keys, taking forever to get the correct one and slides it into the lock, turning it cautiously. When the door opens, my Father comes at us, a belt in his hand, ready to strike but he stops, seeing that it is me. "Daddy!" I say, wanting to linger in a long embrace. Instead I urge, "we need to leave, now," my voice is ragged and anguished.

"Emma, I thought that you were dead," he looks at me astonished. I nod my head, hugging him, savoring each second of it. His strong arms around my shoulders, keeping me safe, teardrops falling onto my arm.

"I know, it's fine, you all did," I assure him, "but we need to go now," I am urgent, pulling on his hand.

"What is going on?" he eyes Will, who looks like he's on his last hours, and the beaten up guard, who doesn't look much better.

"There's been an outbreak, we need to leave," I wait while the guard guides us to the weaponry. It is fully stocked, very generously.

"Everyone, take all that you can carry," Jackson passes out bags that he has found in the corner. I stock mine with guns, pistols, rifles, and automatically grab ammo. The others do the same with more guns but also knives and even the occasional grenade. It truly was an amazing cache.

"You guys," Will's voice is weak, nearly silent; barely audible.

"What is it?" I ask, only half listening.

"We need to leave, now," that last word is dire, weakened my the war going on inside his body, causing us all to zip up our bags and head back out. The extra weight makes me feel safe, another act of reassurance. The guard leads us to an exit, a back doorway only used in emergencies. That is where our paths stop crossing. We leave him, unconscious in the doorway after Jackson delivers one last remorseful blow.

Finally seeing broad daylight again, is amazing, my skin soaking in the vitamin D. From the outside, the massive building seems deserted, left for the ruins after the first major outbreak. The only sign of life is a lone military vehicle and the helicopter on the top. "Get in," I slam into the driver's seat, swinging down the visor to find the key shoved between it.

I put it into the ignition and the car roars to life. Once I orientate myself with the mountains, I head north to where Aiden is supposedly headed. I just hope that we find him and that he hasn't given up hope; not yet because I'm coming, we're still coming.