The Alpha Plague 2 by Michael Robertson Page B

unsheathed his bat from where he’d slid it between his rucksack and his back. He gripped the handle and wound back, ready to swing. In his peripheral vision, he saw Oscar drop into a defensive crouch, his axe still raised.  
    Some of the diseased ran quicker than the others. The slap of their feet beat against the hard floor as they bore down on Rhys and Oscar.  
    With the mob closer, Rhys re-counted. Eight! Four each . They could cope with that. Just.  
    The three fastest opened up a clear lead and left the pack behind.
    Rhys clenched his jaw, turned his shoulder to face their attackers, and swung at the lead diseased’s nose. Its momentum carried it forward, but Rhys’ blow threw its top half back. The monster’s legs kicked up as its torso hurtled toward the floor, back first. It seemed like it shook the ground from where it hit it so hard.
    “Fuck off, cunt,” Rhys yelled as he swung for the downed creature. The thing’s skull damn near popped from the blow, and a puff of rot and vinegar rushed up and smothered Rhys.  
    Rhys heaved, drew several heavy breaths, and looked up at Oscar.
    Two quick strikes let Oscar drop both of his diseased in quick succession. Both had died before they’d hit the ground. As they lay there, limp and lifeless, their wounds leaked across the marble.  
    Before he had time to dwell on it, the other five descended on them.  
    Rhys took three this time. He swung for them one after the other. All three of them fell to the ground. As he rushed over to them, he heard Oscar behind him. The big man’s deep grunts followed by a wet squelch for each diseased, and then silence. His mechanical efficiency unsettled Rhys. What would he be like without an injury ?
    Rhys gripped the handle of his bat with both hands and let the thick end hang down as he stood over the first diseased. He drove a sharp jab straight into the centre of its face. When he moved onto the next one, he screamed and forced the end of the aluminium bat down again.  
    The last kill—a blonde woman no older than about twenty-five—stared up at him through blood-red eyes. Her mouth worked slowly; the blow had only stunned her. Rhys clenched his jaw and drove the bat straight into her dainty nose.
    Out of breath, Rhys stared at Oscar. For the first time since he’d met him, he saw the large man had broken a sweat and breathed heavily too. “You ready to go?” Rhys said.
    Oscar nodded.  
    The pair of them ran across the foyer toward the lift at the far side. Their footsteps echoed as wet slaps through the large open space.
    With the power still on in The Alpha Tower, Rhys saw the pools of blood as he ran through them.
    “I know it’s forcing us to look at this mess,” Rhys said as they both ran through a particularly large pool, “but at least the power’s still working in here.”
    Oscar nodded. “I’m guessing it runs from its own backup.”
    “Good job, really.” Rhys pointed at the gold elevator doors. “Weneed one of these lifts powered so it can get us to the top floor.”

Chapter Twenty

    Once inside the lift, Rhys pressed the button for the fifteenth floor.  
    Nothing.  
    He pressed it again, harder and repeatedly.  
    He pressed it to the point where it stung his finger, but still nothing happened. He stared out through the open doors into the foyer; if a group ran at them now and pinned them in the elevator…  
    The buttons for floors twelve, thirteen, fourteen, and fifteen all looked the same. Embedded in the large gold plate like all of the elevator’s controls, the top four glowed red instead of green.  
    When Rhys reached up to press the button again, Oscar grabbed his wrist and squeezed hard.  
    “Ow,” Rhys said.
    Sweat beaded Oscar’s brow and he looked pale when he pointed at the card reader below the buttons. He struggled to get his words out. “I’m guessing they’re red for a reason . Maybe you should use your security card and see if that helps.”
    A glance out into the