Chapter Twenty-Four

Brenner had canvassed the secret hallway for many hours. He placed floodlights to illuminate every detail hidden in the dark. There were no mouse holes or obvious tunnel entrances located so far. The bastards had covered their tracks. “I’ll find you,” he growled, sniffing the air. It reeked of zombies, of their blood and their rotting insides. His pulse quickened. Sweat beaded down every inch of his dermis as he thought about the secrets being kept from him.

Calm yourself. You’re going to lose it.

He subdued himself by studying the condition of the walls. They were roughly excavated, hollowed out by instruments not designed for that kind of work. The stairs were roughly poured concrete. Where did they find concrete to pour?

A shift occurred in the far wall at the very end of the mock corridor. A square was dislodged with the crunch of rock. The sizable square was kicked out by a waxen and pale foot. Judging by the curvature of its talons, it was a vampire.

Come on out.

Did the vampire not know he was there?

The mouse-in-the-hole game was eating at Brenner’s patience, so he decided to take a risk. He unholstered his .28 pistol. Sucking in a quiet breath, he surged. He charged the opening, taking aim and firing three times. Without knowing if his shots hit home, he reached inside and yanked the twitching body out. The vampire was a man, a weak and emaciated body covered in black earth. One bullet had struck him in the throat. Blood spurted from the hole in the trachea.

“That’s one rat smoked out from the hole.” Brenner wedged his boot against the creature’s throat. “You obviously can’t talk. Interrogating you would be a waste of time. I’m sure there are others who are seeing you die right now. I want them to know how much I relish one death. Yours.”

That’s when he crushed its neck.

“You can die just like anybody.” He raised his voice. “Each and every one of you can die like the rest of us!”

Brenner shone a flashlight into the hole the vampire had traveled from. Looking in, he observed a tunnel, perhaps ten or fifteen yards long. It fed into another hallway, then another, and another, and on and on; what ultimately gave the effect of a labyrinth of hidey holes.

Speaking into his walkie, he immediately ordered the excavation team onto the spot.

 

 

Richard paced in front of the naval radio. He had tried every frequency, and still no answer. He refused to give up. Communication blackouts had happened before, but not like this—not right before plans to destroy the island. The program directors abroad had promised the human inhabitants would be escorted off the island by ship. They were liars, of course. The real problem at hand was that they’d found the secret tunnels, and nobody had any idea what the monsters were conspiring to do.

Maybe there are other hired hands working for the PSA on the island who know about this situation. Perhaps their plan to blow up this fucking island has been postponed until they discover what’s happening below our feet.

I can only pray.

He tried the frequency again. “PAM Island to base…this is Richard Cortez…please respond…we have discovered secret tunnels under the base…investigations are in order…please respond…”

Those assholes are playing games. They’re shutting me out, but why?

Brenner’s onto me. He has to be. Jesus Christ, I can’t think straight.

He kicked the wall. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”

Richard jumped when his beeper buzzed. He detested the dated contraptions. The number indicated Brenner had paged him. The message: Meet me in the secret corridor.

He dreaded being in close contact with his superior again.

Richard tried one more time to communicate with the PSA.

Again, he failed.