Rewrite the Apocalypse dream (by Dee Cari) novel Chapter 149

Chapter 149 RF-82

Finished

Jonna turned to leave the pens when a glint of stainless steel caught her eye. Tucked under a metal awning was a heavy laboratory table wildly out of place. It held medical devices and a thick folder stamped CLASSIFIED.

Flipping it open, she scanned clinical charts detailing animal testing. What is a bioweapon study doing at a meat processing plant? she thought. Her eyes settled on a serial number: Bovine RF-82 Virus.

Joanna looked back at the seven zombie Angus cows. Stepping over to the nearest carcass, she flipped its ear forward. A plastic tag was punched through the flesh, cleanly printed with the exact same code: RF-82.

They had intentionally engineered and fed this virus to these animals.

Acting quickly, Joanna pulled a glass jar from her spatial storage, scooped a sample of the chemical-smelling feed, and threw it in her backpack. The file vanished into her storage next. No livestock to take, but information was always good to have. With a swift motion, she cleared the table and its devices into her storage space too.

Focusing her mind, she teleported into the building. After several vertical jumps, she landed on the third floor. Down in the parking lot, the group was still fighting zombies; small arcs of blue electricity flashed every few seconds.

Joanna turned away, walking down the dark hall. On the left were several offices and a breakroom. On the right was one large laboratory. Pushing through the reinforced double doors, she found a high-tier facility packed with sophisticated hardware: massive glass bioreactors for culturing viruses, industrial centrifuges, empty cryogenic storage tanks, and gene-sequencing terminals surrounded by shattered petri dishes. It was a full-scale incubation chamber.

Joanna raised her flashlight, sweeping the beam across the sprawling, high-tier laboratory. The bright white circle of light cut through the gloom, reflecting off the complex machinery and columns of glass until it painted a heavy, locked specimen cabinet tucked against the far wall. Stenciled cleanly across the reinforced steel frame was a bright red label: RF-82.

A second later, she vanished.

Blinking out of existence, she teleported instantly across the expansive room to stand directly in front of the secure unit. Without a moment’s hesitation, she brought her hand back and drove her fist forward, shattering the thick glass window with a loud, ringing crash. Inside the cabinet sat a small, padded containment box, several tightly bound medical files, and a set of heavy rubber lab gloves. Resting right on top of the paperwork were standard corporate credentials, the name Anderson printed cleanly across the laminated plastic badge.

Joanna popped the lid of the containment box. Resting inside the foam inserts were three tiny glass vials filled with a glowing, thick purple liquid that vibrated faintly under her flashlight beam.

“More puzzle pieces,” she muttered.

With a swift wave of her hand, she swiped the vials, the files, the gloves, and Anderson’s credentials into her spatial storage, vanishing them into her pocket dimension. Then, shifting her focus to the laboratory around her, she gave a casual flick of her wrist. The massive spatial inventory expanded outwards. In a seamless, vacuum-like sweep, she stripped the entire room bare-taking the high-tier diagnostic tables, heavy gene-sequencing machines, rolling lab chairs, and even the loose stools left scattered across the floor,

…

–

MON

27

O

1/2

Chapter 149 RF-82

leaving nothing but an empty concrete shell.

Finisher

King back into the dark hallway, she clicked her flashlight beam forward once more. She walked briskly down the silent corridor, passing the administrative desks until the bright light illuminated a faded plastic plaque mounted on a heavy wooden door at the very end of the hall: Office 315.

Joanna popped the flashlight between her teeth to free up both hands, sweeping the beam across the high- end mahogany desk. Her light caught a polished brass name plaque: Dr. Anderson.

Bingo. This was the man who held the keys to the puzzle.

She yanked the top desk drawer open, finding a stack of neatly sorted medical files. Without pausing, she swept her hand across the pile, throwing the entire batch into her spatial storage.

Dropping to her knees, she pulled open the deeper bottom drawer. Tucked inside was a heavy metal box Unlike the rest of the sterile facility, this box was slightly rusted, looking completely out of place in the luxurious office.

Joanna popped the latches and lifted the lid. Inside, foam inserts cradled two heavy glass syringes filled with a thick, ominous, milky-white liquid. No labels. No serial numbers. Just the raw, unexplained serum.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify