Carrion (The Bren Watts Diaries #1)

Chapter 72

Haskell retook point, bounding up the stairs faster than I could. We could hear screams coming from up above, multiple gunfires erupting, and the alarms still blaring like a banshee. Logan kept close to my heels, while Miguel and Yousef guarded our rear.

"How fast does this spread?" Haskell asked me.

In my head, I tried to think about how fast they would turn between two minutes and eight hours for Mr. Ramirez and Carson. But they were the only two people I knew who got bit and turned. It must have something to do with the brain then and the bite's location, or how gravely injured the victim was. Every person's immune system reacted differently to the plague, perhaps slowing it down, depending on the host's preexisting condition. Jesus Christ, I'm calling us a host now. Fuck.

"Two minutes, at least. Eight hours at most."

"Two minutes," Haskell muttered. "Shit."

I expected to find at least half a dozen of them turning already. We needed to kill them fast.

We reached the top of the stairwell, flanking the door leading to the main ground floor. Haskell pushed it open and stepped through.

Jimmy was hunched over a man's body, and I recognized it was the same cop we talked to earlier on the desk. By the looks of it, he was still alive, twitching as Jimmy cried over him. Jimmy whirled around to face us, covered in blood all over his mouth and shirt. His eyes were all puffy and red from crying. Haskell aimed his rifle at him.

"Help me!" Jimmy exclaimed, reaching out his hand. "Didn't...mean...to...kill..." Jimmy said, sounding like there was a massive lump in his throat.

Haskell stopped. "What the fuck?"

Jimmy's pupils started to split into two. He stared at his bloody hands for a second and screamed, "What is happening to me?"

I aimed my gun at him, but Haskell pushed it down, shouting, "No! Wait—!"

"He's turning!" I said.

Jimmy's head jerked, clutched the back of his skull as if trying to claw something out it. Then, the familiar cry of a vector rang out, piercing and guttural. Jimmy charged toward us. In a split second, bullets littered his body, coming from Logan behind us.

"He's already dead," Logan said to Haskell.

"But he was—"

"Too late," I said. I pointed at the bite mark on his shoulder. Haskell became quiet.

Miguel strode toward the dying cop prone on the ground. The cop hissed at him, his pupils starting to split. "I'm sorry, bud," Miguel said before he shot him on the head.

"Never do that again," I told Haskell.

"I'm sorry."

I faced the others. "Let's do this real slow, people. We don't want to get ambushed."

We continued moving down the hall. I didn't dare cry out for Luke, Miguel, or Margot, knowing that they're smart enough to hide if a vector was nearby. I hoped they got to a safe place.

There was blood all over the walls as we trailed the vector's carnage. We saw a body with its throat and abdomen ripped open, but a quick check determined that he would not turn. His injuries were too severe for that. More gunshots boomed ahead, and I could distinctly hear more of the vectors' shrieks. We were getting closer.

Two more dead bodies slumped near a drinking fountain. A soldier sitting against the wall with his entire lower jaw yanked down, blood still spurting out of his mouth.