Last Resort

By CJ Knight

Photo by Julien Maculan on Unsplash

Side story created to add context to my contributions to Maryellen Brady 💗📚’s Millcreek Village. This is another story to add context to existing characters and future stories.

Last Resort

Five years before Millcreek.

Prignitz County, Germany.

04:00

Sheets of rain hammered the metal panels of the helicopters as they travelled low over the needles of the pine forest. The trees gave way to the clearing and the facility in its centre. A building of steel and concrete behind fences, watch towers, and flood lights. None of the lights were on. Elle Forewan shielded her eyes as she surveyed the target from the open chopper side door. “Something’s wrong.”

Across from her, Vincent Rozclad slid the slide of his MP5 forward with a click, and raised his eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”

Elle pointed toward the perimeter fence and empty watch towers. “This place is supposed to be heavily fortified. There’s nothing moving down there, and the gate’s wide open.”

Rozclad sat beside her. No guards, patrols, or dogs. He knew she was right. His eyes fell to the screen on his watch. Priority One. Retrieve the mutagenic strain. Expect heavy resistance. Mutagenic strain. Everlasting life apparently. Of course, Millcreek Corporation wanted it.

The helicopters circled the facility twice before settling on the landing pad. Twenty operators disembarked in formation and snake hopped toward the facility entrance.

The steel doors of the facility stood open. Emergency lights bathed the corridors in crimson and shadow. Air thick with the stench of copper and rot hung like fog. Rozclad’s nose wrinkled. “Glad I didn’t eat before we left.”

Elle ignored him, and turned to the others. A holographic blueprint of the facility rose from her watch. “Alpha team. Head to the generator room in the basement and restore power.” They moved without a word. “Bravo team. Laboratory. Retrieve the airborne mutagen sample.” She held out two containment cylinders. “If the sample is compromised, leave it behind.” The cylinders were taken from her hand and Bravo team disappeared along the corridor.

Rozclad cracked his neck. “What about you and me?”

Elle’s eyes remained on the blueprint. “We find out why this place is so quiet.” She pointed to an area of the blueprint. “The administrative offices run on a separate power source. We’ll find our answers there.”

***

Every office in the administration block looked frozen in time. Half full coffee mugs and half eaten meals sat beside most of the terminals. Paperwork remained scattered on desks. It was as if everyone vanished at the same exact moment. The director’s office sat at the end of the block. Unlike the other terminals, the computer monitor in the office glowed. Elle sat at the terminal and opened the master log. The final entry was a video recording. Elle opened the file.

***

A containment room appeared. Scientist milled around the room surrounded by reinforced glass panels. At the centre, a man restrained to a steel table with an oxygen mask on his face. One of the scientists lifted a silver canister, slightly smaller than the containment cylinders Elle handed to Bravo team. The scientist nodded toward the camera. “Trial seventy one.” The hose of the restrained man’s oxygen mask was attached to the cylinder. “Beginning exposure.” A hiss filled the containment room as the mutagen filled the oxygen mask. At first, nothing happened. Then, the restrained man convulsed. Bones cracked as his back arched unnaturally. A scientist stepped closer. “Subject entering acute…” The restraints exploded apart. The man leapt from the steel table and brought the scientist to ground. Hands tore through the collar of the hazmat suit, spraying the glass panels in blood. The man buried his face into the scientist’s throat. Muscles spasmed in his jaw as he drank. The other scientists tried to exit the room, but they fumbled with the code panel. Then, the bitten scientist convulsed on the ground, back arching, and sprang to his feet. Panic tore through the room, screaming, blood. Every fallen scientist, convulsed, and rose again. With no one left to attack, they faced the reinforced glass panels. With an ear splitting screech, they charged. The glass shattered, and the video feed ended.

***

Elle closed the video file. Rozclad’s lips curled into a smile. “Well, good looking. I guess we know why they sent you and me. Thomas and Veronica wouldn’t risk their little favourites Zofia and Drake on this complete shit fight.”

Gunfire echoed through the corridors. Not controlled bursts, but panic fire. Then silence. Screeches came next. One became twenty, then more again. The chair fell backward as Elle rose. “I think it’s time we left.”

Elle and Rozclad moved together, rifles raised. The corridor remained empty ahead of them. Metal vent covers exploded open, figures poured into the corridor, pale and blood soaked. They moved with inhuman speed, black eyes focused on Elle and Rozclad. Rifle fire erupted. Three pale bodies collapsed, then rose again. Metal slugs fell to the floor as the wounds closed over. “Perfect!” Rozclad fired again. The pale bodies filled the corridor and pushed forward like a tidal wave. Elle and Rozclad retreated with controlled bursts of fire all the way to the director’s office. Elle slammed the door closed. The creatures pounded against the metal door, tearing at the solid steel. Rozclad pulled the medical pouch strapped to his leg. “Veronica knew about this.” He pulled a syringe from the pouch. “She asked me if I had this with me before liftoff.” The contents of the syringe glowed white in the darkened office. “I hate using this shit.” He studied the contents as he flicked the plastic cap off the needle. Lunarium. A little present from Thomas Creek once he learned about my condition. Told me it was wasting potential to limit my gift to once a month.

The steel door of the office cracked as the pounding continued. Elle met Rozcald’s eyes. “Use it, Vince.”

He smiled. “Hide yourself, and stay down wind.” She ducked beneath the director’s desk. Rozclad drove the needle under his sternum, and into his heart.

Rozcald roared with pain as he dropped to his knees. His skin rippled as the room echoed with the sounds of snapping bone and tearing skin. His uniform ripped as dark fur exploded through the tears. Fingernails fell to the floor as claws replaced them. His jaw lengthened as human teeth dropped in a pile of saliva and blood. Blue eyes disappeared, replaced by luminous yellow. The steel office door exploded inward and pale bodies flooded through. The werewolf met them head on.

Claws tore the faces of the first two driving them into the floor. Their bodies exploded like blood filled water balloons under Rozclad’s weight. Unlike bullets, his claws were effective. Limbs and heads flew in a shower of blood as Rozclad forced the tidal wave backward through the office door. The screeches filling the corridors now were not of hunger, but pain and fear.

Elle pulled herself out from beneath the desk. The battle echoed along the corridor. She zigzag through the carnage following at distance. The werewolf forced the remaining creatures out of the facility and into the yard. Elle walked out of the facility and was met with the glow of the rising sun on the horizon. The first rays touched pale skin. Flesh ignited. Within moments, every pale body was aflame, disintegrating to ash. Smoke curled upward into the morning sky. Only one creature remained. The werewolf’s breath clouded in the morning cold. Its yellow eyes focused on Elle without any recognition. The one drawback of Lunarium. He wasn’t looking at Elle Forewan, he was looking at prey. Rozclad’s hulking frame lowered like a coiled spring ready to charge. Elle didn’t raise her rifle. Instead, she produced a syringe from her thigh pouch. Rozclad charged, earth shaking beneath his claws with every stride. Elle’s eyes focused on the wolf as she pushed the cap free of the needle with her thumb. Rozclad leapt forward, jaws open. Elle sidestepped and drove the syringe into the beast’s chest. The wolf stumbled, then collapsed. Fur receded, bones clicked back into place, and claws retracted beneath flesh, leaving a naked man lying in the dirt. Elle clicked the button on her watch. “L41 requesting extraction.”

“Copy.”

***

As an unconscious Rozclad was lifted into the chopper, Elle took one final look at the facility. The mutagenic strain was still housed somewhere inside. That was something she intended to keep to herself. Something like that was better off far from the hands of the Millcreek Corporation.