Undead Insidious

Chapter 2

The next day came, and George's hand began to quake as he attempted to unlock the door to the home he had normally served. The keys danced around his fingers, but he finally managed to make contact with the lock. He would hate to admit it, but he was terrified. If he were caught doing this, well, he didn't even want to think about it.

He turned the key until he heard a click. Slowly, he cracked open the door, breathing a sigh of relief when he discovered that the house was empty. The Sergeant had already left for the fight, which was set to begin in the next twenty minutes. George had been all over the house throughout his years of servitude, but he had never seen any sort of key, or pass that would allow someone to leave the city. Although, there was one room he had always been forbidden to enter. The War Room they would call it. He was always told to never go in there; to clean any other room except that particular one. The Sergeant had even gone so far as to threaten death upon him. George stood before the forbidden door, and slowly opened it. Stairs spiraled down into darkness. The staircase seemed to go on forever, a descent into the dark hell that awaited him. Finally, he reached the bottom, and carefully opened a second door. What awaited on the other side seemed fairly normal. It was just a simple office, clean, with nothing but a single bed, and a wooden desk.

George slipped in, shuffling to the desk, and started to rummage around in the drawers. Papers, papers, and more papers. This was a waste of time. He reached down into the bottom of the drawer, and his hand hit something metallic. He pulled out a small box with a metal latch; opening it, he discovered a button. Staring down at the button, temptation, along with a hint of fear ran through his mind. But he had come this far, so he pressed it. Click.

Part of the wall behind him slid open, and he turned around, setting the box on the desk. What was there to hide? Surely, they wouldn't go through these lengths to hide these passes. He approached the opening, another set of stairs laid before him. Down the stairs he walked, coming to the bottom, and eyes widening once he saw what he had stumbled into.

The room appeared to be some sort of lab for experimentation. Several tables lined the room, surrounded by tools, syringes, and other implements. The end of the room sat three prison-like cells. Most of these cells were empty, but the one in the middle got his attention.

"Jesus," he gasped. The cell held a man whose arms were chained. The man looked as though he were rotting, and smelled of it too. Suddenly, the man looked up at George.

"Oh god, kill me," the man pleaded.

"What the hell is this?" George demanded.

"Just kill me..."

"What have they done to you?"

"They found me wandering above. Took me. Experimented on me! I'm dead."

"You're dead?" George pondered.

"My heart, it doesn't beat..."

"How did they–" George started.

"Make me this way?" the man interrupted. "Where do you think they get undead for your entertainment? They're people who live here who no one would ever miss, or people like me who get too close. Below your precious city is a factory, and I promise you haven't seen anything yet."

"I've lived here for years... I knew they were fucked in their heads but... There's a whole factory?"

"Today they are supposed to be testing some big new breed of undead on that precious fighter everyone loves. I overheard that they want to finally finish him off."

"How do you know so much?"

"When you're down here for years you become privy to certain information. Who cares if the locked up failed experiment knows anything? Who is he going to tell?" the mans eyes shifted to look past George.

"Well, well," came a voice from behind George. He spun around to see Sergeant Nathaniel Rykers, gun at the ready. "What am I supposed to do about this?"

"What the hell do you have going on here?" George demanded.

"Not your concern. Your only concern should be getting on your knees and pleading for your life," he said with a smirk. "You honestly don't think I monitor the ones who serve me very closely?"

"Maybe you should be monitoring your boss then."

Nathaniel laughed. "Oh, Kurtis can take care of himself. He has home field advantage. And I can promise you that he would never be caught dead alone with Johnny," he pulls out a pass that George had so desperately searched for and tosses it at him. "Here's what you've been looking for. Now, get on your knees. Now!" George slowly dropped to his knees. Maybe if he followed instruction, he would live. But who was he kidding? This wasn't going to end well. Nathaniel approached him. "I am very disappointed in you. You've been a faithful servant for years and you let it all go because of some infected gladiator who is going to die anyway?" Nathaniel walked even closer, George glanced around, looking for some hope of a way out. He glanced at the rotting man, talking with his eyes, to make a distraction; anything.

"Ah, you filthy son of a bitch!" the man screamed, causing Nathaniel to glance at him. "Leave the poor man alone."

"What did you say to me, you fucking animal?" Nathaniel replied. George jumped to his feet and punched Nathaniel right in the jaw; the impact caused the gun to go flying across the room. George charged after it, but Nathaniel tripped him to the ground. "You old piece of shit!" Nathaniel screamed.

George crawled to the gun with all the might he could muster, and grabbed it. He turned around without looking, and pulled the trigger. The bullet went straight through Nathaniel's left eye and out the back of his skull. George stood up in disbelief. He had never killed any living being before. "God, I didn't know these old bones had anything left," he said. He looked at the rotting man. "Thanks."

"Wait, before you leave, please, just kill me," the man told him.

George didn't particularly like the idea. He had never been asked to kill anyone before, but this man looked like he was just ready to go. "Are you sure?"

"Would you want to live like this? Even if you were free?"

"You can tell people your story," George said. "We can tell everyone what has been happening."

"I just want to die," he told him. "There is nothing for me."

George sighed, taking a few moments before nodding in agreement, and lifted the gun. "Okay."