The Threshold

The vehicle jerked violently to the left, the tires skidding on the wet gravel. I gasped, grabbing the dashboard as Garrison threw his weight against the steering wheel to correct the slide.

Through the blood-smeared windshield, the headlights caught a figure standing in the middle of the road. It wasn't a standard infected. This creature was massive, its muscles swollen and distorted under translucent skin. It wore the remnants of a miner's jacket, but its jaw had split completely open, revealing rows of jagged, unnatural teeth.

"Hold on!" Garrison shouted, slamming his foot onto the gas.

The utility vehicle plowed straight into the creature. A horrific crunch echoed through the floorboards as the bumper crushed the beast beneath the chassis. The rear tires bounced over the mass, the engine roaring as Garrison forced the truck through the resistance.

"They are evolving, Garrison," I said, my voice cracking behind my filter mask. "The fog isn't just killing cells. It's rewriting them."

"Then we rewrite our tactics," Garrison growled, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. "We are almost there."

Up ahead, a massive concrete wall cut directly into the side of the mountain. A single red beacon flashed above a titanium blast door.

Garrison killed the headlights fifty yards from the blast door, letting the vehicle coast to a halt in the pitch-blackness of the mountain's shadow.

"Why did we stop?" I whispered, the darkness inside the cabin feeling like a weight.

"The automated defense turrets," Garrison said, unbuckling his harness. He reached into the glove box and pulled out a small metallic cylinder with a glowing green interface. "If the main grid went dark, the turrets default to a blind-fire protocol. Anything that moves within thirty yards gets vaporized."

"Then how do we get to the door?"

"I have to manually insert the command key into the outer terminal," he said, checking the magazine of his sidearm. "It's on the left wall of the bunker arch. I need you to stay in the driver's seat, Valerie. If the turrets fire on me, you take this truck and ram that door."

"Garrison, that's suicide," I said, grabbing his arm before he could open his door. "You won't survive the crossfire."

"I survived six months without you, Valerie," he murmured, his face inches from mine in the gloom. His hand came up to the back of my neck, pulling me forward until our masks brushed. "A couple of automated guns aren't keeping me out of this bunker. If I don't make it, you use the secondary code on the console. It's your birthday."

"My birthday?" I stared at him, stunned. "You used my birthday for the emergency backup?"

"I never forgot the date," he whispered.

He released me, threw open the door, and dropped into the wet mud before I could answer.

I scrambled into the driver's seat, my hands gripping the cold leather of the steering wheel. Through the side mirror, I watched his dark silhouette move with lethal efficiency, staying low to the rocky ground as he approached the concrete arch.

Suddenly, a loud mechanical click echoed through the mountain air.

Two high-caliber turrets emerged from the top of the concrete wall, their barrels spinning with a high-pitched whine as they searched for a target.

"Come on, Garrison," I prayed, my foot hovering over the accelerator.

A shadow launched itself from the rocks above the bunker entrance. It wasn't a turret. It was another infected miner, its distorted limbs catching the faint green light of the command key Garrison was holding. It howled, descending directly toward his position.

"Garrison! Above you!" I screamed, leaning on the vehicle's horn.

The sound tore through the quiet night, drawing the attention of both the creature and the automated turrets. The spinning barrels instantly locked onto the utility vehicle.

A barrage of gunfire erupted from the wall, the massive rounds chewing through the armored hood of our truck. Sparks flew across the windshield as the bulletproof glass began to spiderweb with deep white fractures.

I slammed my foot on the gas, driving the vehicle straight toward the concrete wall to draw the fire away from Garrison.

"Valerie, no!" Garrison's voice echoed over the radio on the dash.

The truck slammed into the base of the turret tower with an explosive crunch. The steering column snapped, pinning my legs against the seat, but the distraction worked. Through the cracked glass, I saw Garrison drive his knife into the neck of the lunging creature, throwing it aside before slamming the green cylinder into the wall terminal.

The titanium blast door began to groan, slowly sliding upward into the ceiling.

"Get out of the truck!" Garrison yelled, sprinting through the crossfire toward my door.

He ripped the damaged door open, his powerful arms wrapping around my waist to haul me out of the crushed cabin. The turrets on the wall were still firing, their rounds chewing the vehicle to pieces behind us as Garrison carried me across the threshold into the dark, echoing interior of the northern outpost.

The massive door crashed down behind us, sealing out the gunfire, the monsters, and the dying world.