ARES Virus: Arctic Storm Read Online Free

and leaves the woman violently thrashing on the ground.
    Screams echo off the walls of the buildings and emanate, barely heard, from within every structure. Arriving at the ROTC headquarters building that sits nearly adjacent to the commons area, Brown pauses a moment to catch his breath before climbing the wide steps. Smeared blood covers part of the glass on the inside of the heavy set of double doors. He hesitates, knowing that entering the building will shorten his line of sight and his ability to react, thereby limiting his options. He always hated having to go into buildings in Iraq and Afghanistan: anything could be around the next corner or in the next room.
    And there are far too many corners , he thinks, pulling the door open with a sweat-slickened hand.
    He steps inside, the coolness of the interior a stark contrast to the heat outside. The sweat on his cheeks enhances the chill. The door sweeps closed behind him, shutting off the shrill screams coming from the campus. He listens for any sounds within, but there is only hushed silence. The cold air isn’t the only contrast between inside and out.
    Trying to keep the clop of his shoes on the linoleum floor to a minimum, Brown edges along one wall to the open stairwell situated in the middle of the floor. He keeps fumbling at his side and searching his pockets for a weapon that isn’t there, hoping that one might magically appear. This situation feels like one of those nightmares of standing in front of a group, completely naked and having just emerged from the chilled waters of a lake.
    Still slightly panting from his run across campus and climbing the overly large steps, Brown arrives at the third floor, which houses the Army ROTC detachment.
    I’m certainly not in the shape I used to be , he thinks, looking down both directions of the hallway in front of him.
    Sprays of drying blood line the walls, the thicker splashes slowly dripping down the surface. Smeared streaks of the same coat the floor. There isn’t a sound, nor is there anyone in sight. Cautiously stepping into the hall, he walks by an open door leading into one of the classrooms. The iron smell of blood fills the room and seeps out from the open doorway. Inside, dark and drying liquids cover desktops, walls, and the floor. Stained papers are strewn everywhere and binders sit amid overturned tables and chairs. Having witnessed several similar scenes, it appears as if a grenade had been tossed into a crowded classroom.
    Sergeant Brown walks past the classroom and opens the door to his office, afforded to him as NCOIC of the detachment. Ignoring the streaks of blood splashed across the opaque window and the drips covering part of his stenciled name, he steps inside and closes the door behind him. It’s been his sanctuary amid the chaos of the cadets, and he feels that now with the chaos reigning outside.
    He walks across the small office to look through the window. It offers a good view of the commons and the carnage happening below. Muted screams filter into the office as the figures below continue their mad scramble. Some are being chased, others are in pursuit. Those hounded are soon caught and brought down, only to rise moments later to join in the pursuit. Red gore and torn-up lawn mar the once pristine commons.
    Brown spots a large group chasing after three individuals. The three keep looking back over their shoulders at their assailants, their fear evident. Backpacks bob up and down as they try to outdistance those behind.
    “Fools, don’t look back,” Brown mutters, silently urging them to run faster. “Don’t you know that will only slow you down?”
    His silent wishes go for naught as the pursuers close the distance and catch them. The three are quickly submerged below a mountain of bodies. The mob then rises and races off in search of others, leaving behind three thrashing figures. The three lie still for a moment before rising and racing off, vanishing from sight.
    So, whatever the