Containment

The security guards led us through the double doors and into the interior of the research facility. Already we could see signs of intensive damage. Severed cables that continued to spark. Dents and claw marks on the walls. Broken lights and shorted out circuitry. Shattered glass lying across places, with emergency metallic shutters replacing them.

"We did our best to contain the specimens," the sergeant explained, his voice muffled behind his rebreather mask. "The first breakout was near the generator rooms, which is why we lack power. The surviving engineers redirected what little power we had to emergency lights and essentials, that's why the top level is in total blackout."

"What caused the breakout?" Lou Qian asked with a frown. "How did these specimens escape?"

"No idea," the sergeant admitted with a shrug.

"There were rumors, though," one of the other guards spoke up. His sergeant glanced at him, and even though I couldn't see his expression beneath his goggles and gas mask, I was sure it was one of disapproval. The guard continued, undaunted. "The zombies and mutants they were experimenting on were growing smarter, apparently. They were cooperating and communicating somehow, developing advanced pack tactics."

"Enough," the sergeant cut him off. "Don't indulge in hearsay and spread unsubstantiated rumors."

"They aren't unsubstantiated, though. There's this technician I know, she said she saw with her very own eyes…"

"Just shut up," the sergeant snapped. He turned to us evolvers. "I'll be transmitting the facility map to you guys. The areas marked in red are in lockdown. The mutants are roaming in there. Most of the laboratories are gone, as are the residential blocks. We only have the security room, cafeteria and part of the generator room left to us. We had to close off all the other sectors or risk allowing the mutants to escape."

"Most of the research staff and engineers have been transformed into zombies," another security guard said mournfully. "It's only us jarheads left, support staff, and a handful of scientists."

"By support staff, we mean cleaning and cooking crew," another guard muttered. The sergeant glared at him.

"They're still more useful than the scientists. At least they know how not to get in the way, and can even help out in a fight. Those researchers are too scared to even pick up a weapon. I was tempted to shoot them myself."

"Yeah!" the second guard agreed. "They caused this whole mess to begin with! If it weren't for them screwing around with zombies and mutants, we wouldn't be in such a sorry state!"

"So what's the plan?" I asked the sergeant. He snorted before he flinched when there was a scratching sound behind one of the bulkheads. We all stared at the dents that were now appearing in the metal surface, wary and on guard. The sergeant then cleared his throat.

"It happens all the time," he assured us. "The bulkheads will hold. They haven't gotten through yet."

"Yet," one of his subordinates grumbled, only to earn an elbow jab from his superior. The sergeant then turned back to me gruffly.

"As for the plan…well, we're hoping that you could tell us."

"Our orders were to evacuate the facility and escort the survivors back to District 4," I replied. "If possible, uh, sterilize the facility."

"What, do you think there's a self-destruct button somewhere we can conveniently press to blow the whole thing to hell and wipe out all the zombies and mutants?" The sergeant said sarcastically. "This isn't a movie where you have such a convenient and simple solution."

"I don't think the mission packet ever mentioned sterilization," Nian Qing said, consulting his smartphone. "The priority is to rescue and evacuate. That's all."

"We can try to contact the authorities with our smartphones and see what they say, if they have any new orders." Lou Qian was on top of things, as always. We nodded in agreement.

"Let's do that. But first, please lead us to the survivors. We would like to extract more information before we contact Principal Xiao Zhang for more orders."

"All right." The sergeant didn't sound happy, and I didn't blame him. From what I heard, it appeared that the security staff had some beef with the researchers.

The survivors were mostly holed up in the security room, staring balefully at the various cameras. I stared at the holographic screens, only to be disappointed. They were mostly static, fizzling and jumping nosily. The only cameras that worked were those in the non-red zones – in other words, the human held territories of the facility. They were still imperative to ensure that none of the zombies or mutants broke out of their sectors without anyone noticing, but even so I wished we had a little bit more intel on the enemy.

The security guards didn't seem to know how many zombies or mutants there were.

"A lot," the sergeant replied without any elaboration. When I pressed him for more details, he retorted with, "How would I know? Do you want me to sneak in there and do a headcount?"

"There should be many more, now that most of the research staff and engineering team were turned into zombies," another guard spoke up. "At least a hundred more zombies…but I don't know how many specimens there were to begin with. Could be several hundred. Could be more."

"They were capturing a lot of them from outside," a third guard said with a shrug. "I don't know anything about it. The evolvers were usually the ones who handled it."

"Where are the evolvers?" I asked, feeling some hope. If there were more experienced evolvers here, maybe I could palm the responsibility over to them.

"They were all in the labs when the breakout happened," the sergeant said sourly. "Probably dead or turned into mutants now."

A chill ran down my spine. Evolvers were immune to the virus or whatever contagion it was that turned regular people into zombies. So even if we were bitten, scratched or hurt by zombies, we wouldn't turn into one of them. You could say we had evolved to become immune to the zombie transformation.

But it wasn't unheard of evolvers experimenting on themselves to transform into powerful mutants. Such existences were horrifying…probably close to commander level.

Inwardly, I wondered how many points they were worth for my Kill Count, but reminded myself that I would probably get myself killed trying to fight such powerful enemies. As much as I wanted to try, it was better to err on the side of caution. After all, the Kill Count would be useless if I was dead.

Reality was not a game. Nor was it some wish fulfilment story where everything would conveniently fall in place for me. Make a single mistake and I would end up dead. I had survived so far by being careful, and I wasn't going to throw all caution to the wind just because I suddenly obtained a Kill Count system. Complacency killed more people than actual zombies.

"The researchers are here…what's left of them, anyway." The sergeant came to a stop and gestured to a group of people sitting around, dazed. Their once pristine white lab coats were now filthy and stained, with dark smudges and red smears of blood. They turned to stare at us blankly as we approached. The sergeant nodded, keeping his distance. "If you want more information about the breakout, you should ask them. They know more about it than we do. That said, they barely responded to anything we say to them, so…well, good luck talking to them and getting whatever information you need."

"Thank you, sir." I saluted the sergeant, who looked like he was rolling his eyes beneath those goggles. The security team went back to monitoring the cameras or prowling up and down the room with their weapons. A few of them dropped onto seats and slumped down, taking a short break.

The tension must be getting to them.

"Excuse me," I said, prodding the nearest researcher, who was an old man in his sixties. Thinning white hair spread over his scalp, and he wore thick-rimmed glasses. He glanced up to stare at me, but his eyes remained hollow and sunken. I was taken aback by how pale and emaciated he was. I tried again. "We are evolvers from the Fourth Evolver Academy, and we're here to rescue you. But we need to know what's happening. What's the situation here?"

"It wasn't supposed to happen," the old man said, his eyes still glassy. "It wasn't supposed to happen."

"What's not supposed to happen?" I asked, confused. "The breakout? The specimens escaping?"

"We never meant for this to happen," the old man continued, grabbing onto my hands. "We were thinking of the future, you see? Our research was meant to save the world! That's why we created those bioweapons. If we could control them, we could wipe out the mutants and zombies! We would save humanity!"

"What? Bioweapons?" Pang Fei scrunched his face. "What is he talking about?"

"Told you so," the sergeant called out from his place at the monitors. "They've been rambling nonsense that makes no sense whatsoever. And when you try to get them to give a straight answer, they ignore you and continue ranting whatever they want to rant."

"Is there anyone hurt?" Lisa asked, moving from person to person. "I can treat your injuries."

"Nobody's hurt, at least not physically," the sergeant said. He shrugged grimly. "If we were hurt by the zombies or mutants, we'll turn into one of them. Can't afford to get hurt."

"But the researchers, they've seen some shit," another guard said. "Unless your healing abilities can help them recover their minds, I don't think you can do anything for them."

Lisa's shoulders slumped and she shook her head. Her healing abilities were near miraculous when it came to mending cuts and broken bones, but they did nothing for the spirit.

"These bioweapons." I tried. "What are they? Can you give us more details on what these bioweapons are?"

"The bioweapons are bioweapons."

What an amazing answer. The sergeant was right. This guy was too far gone.

"Are they the mutants?" Lou Qian asked. Fortunately she came along. I wouldn't know what to do without her. Lou Qian glowered at the five or so surviving researchers, particularly the old man who I was talking to. "Were you trying to control mutants? Get them to fight zombies and other mutants?"

"Yes, yes." The old man nodded. "Theoretically it should work. The implants should control them, as well as the hypnotherapy and drugs. But we miscalculated. It appeared that the mutants developed a resistance to them. We should have seen it coming. Or maybe they were always resistant, but pretended to be submissive. It's hard to tell. Toward the end, they were beginning to develop high level cognition and were aware of each other, even though we placed them in separate cells. Even with barriers in place, it appeared that they could communicate with each other. Who knows how long they had been planning for this? Then…everything failed. Or perhaps they just decided to strike that day. We don't know. I don't know. It wasn't my shift. But the screams, I could hear the screams. Meredith, Mei Hui, Franklin, Chen Hao, Bernard Soh…the rest of the research team…"

"They were tearing them apart," a female researcher with blond hair and thick lipstick, which was smeared across her face that was now filthy with smudged makeup. She stared at us hysterically. "I could hear them tearing them apart!"

"We're all going to die." A middle-aged researcher with dark hair and unshaven stubble across his jawline was wrapping his arms around his body and trembling. "We're all going to die! They're going to get out and kill us all! And there's nothing we can do to…!"

"Pathetic."

We all looked up at the voice. It came from neither the researchers nor the security guards. Instead, it was a stout man in his fifties, wrinkled yet still fierce. He was dressed in a cleaning uniform, his hands covered in gloves and a mop in his hand. Or it used to be a mop, but he broke the handle off to turn it into a weapon.

I remembered the sergeant mentioning that the cleaning and cooking staff helping them out in a fight. Given the dude's sass, I wasn't surprised. No wonder the guards thought of them more highly than the researchers.

"You think your little resistance will save you?" the dark-haired researcher scoffed, tears spilling from his sunken eyes. "We worked on those bioweapons up close. We were next to all those mutants, recording data on their capabilities. We know what they are capable of. You can stab at them with all your mops and brooms and it won't make a difference. They'll rip you apart in a second!"

"I would like to see them try and survive a volley from this baby," a security guard sneered, holding up his rifle and stroking its barrel.

"Oh, you'd be surprised," the old man said glumly. "Some of them will eat those bullets and spit them out at you."

"Hah! I would like to see that!" The guard retorted.

"Well, you'll get to see if that's true or not," the sergeant said, looking up from his screen with an ominous expression. "A few mutants have just broken free from sector 2B and the zombies are spilling into the corridor right now."