A World Reborn: The First Outbreak by Chris Thompson

starting
to run down the corridor.
    Melissa was nearly at the corner of the
cross section when she heard the door open behind her; she was not fully around
the corner when she heard the loud sound of automatic weapon fire. The bullets
missed her, hitting the opposite wall, but the frightening sound triggered
another surge of adrenaline and Melissa charged towards the stairs. Whoever was
following her was fast and fresh, ready for the chase. As she reached the door
to the stairwell, she heard another series of blasts and felt a white-hot pain
in her left arm. It was so sudden it made her stumble but, thankfully, she
didn’t lose her footing. Melissa got through the door and started down the
stairs. She fumbled with her right hand to grab at the gun in her waistband,
pulling it free. She turned, and took aim, channelling all her concentration
into the next few seconds. The door she’d come through was shutting, almost in
slow motion, then suddenly it burst open and Melissa got her first look at the
person trying to kill her. Man or woman, she couldn’t tell; he or she being
garbed in a heavy, black fabric with a balaclava pulled over his or her face.
In large, seemingly male hands, was an assault rifle. It wasn’t quite at the
ready, and this gave Melissa a fraction of a second’s advantage; Melissa fired
at the shape, squeezing the trigger in quick succession three times. The first
hit him in the chest, and the grunt of pain confirmed Melissa’s belief that it
was a man. The second clipped his right shoulder and ushered forth a small
spray of blood against the wall. The third, however, slammed into the wall
harmlessly beside him. The impacts had winded him, and in the fraction of a
second that this afforded Melissa, she realized he was wearing body armour, so
she aimed purely out of instinct and fired at his head. The bullet smashed into
the centre of his skull, and a large spray of blood hit the wall behind him; he
sagged and went limp, before dropping to the floor. Melissa broke into a run
again. She knew there would be more; another was more than likely just a few
seconds behind him, and she was keenly aware she wouldn’t have the element of
surprise next time. She charged down the stairs just in time, as she heard a
second person entering the stairwell above her.
    Heart pounding and operating purely on
instinct, Melissa crashed through the door to the next floor. She didn’t know
what to expect, but knew that staying in the stairwell was akin to having a
death wish. She intended to cross the floor and gain access to the other
staircase, proceed down, and hopefully lose her pursuer or pursuers on one of
the guest room floors. Perhaps, or rather she hoped, they would simply stop
chasing her if she got far enough away from the executive suites. But these
thoughts were nothing more than subconscious flickers; Melissa’s only conscious
impulse was to keep moving, to ignore the pain and the wet feeling running down
her arm, to carry through the cross section in the corridor and keep pushing
towards the other set of stairs. She ran forward, risking a glance over her
shoulder. She knew the next pursuer would be coming through the door at any
moment and if he or she shot at her, they’d probably hit her as Melissa was
running in a straight line. She saw a faint flash of light, presumably from the
flashlight mounted on the weapon, and Melissa swung her right arm around
instinctively, firing off a quick volley of shots in the vague direction of the
door. Would they hit anyone? Probably not, but they’d potentially buy her a few
more precious seconds. And that was all she needed. Melissa fired and fired until
she heard the click of the weapon as it ran out of ammunition. She’d
successfully held her pursuer back long enough however, and was now able to
power through the door before her assailant could take aim at her. Melissa
slammed the door shut and started down, jumping down the last few steps to the
landing, and