Читать книгу Zombiegrad. A horror novel - Win Chester - Страница 7

Andrew Thomas woke up at 5:00 a.m. sharp. He switched off the alarm clock and got out of bed. His head was clear, as always. He felt refreshed after a good night’s sleep. He walked into the living room. The motion sensor lights kicked on. He took the remote control, turned on the CD player and selected Bruce Springsteen’s album, “The Rising”. He was into Bruce Springsteen this week. He pushed a button, and music filled the room. He opened the window to let the winter morning air in and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. It was still dark outside.

When the room was cool enough, he closed the window and started doing his morning exercises – push-ups and sit-ups. His body began functioning at full capacity, blood rushing in and filling each cell of his body with energy. While the music was still playing, he turned on the FM transmitter on the CD player and left the living room. In ten seconds, the lights went off automatically. He had always been a thrifty person like his father and saved every penny he could save. That was why he got the motion sensor lights installed in his apartment.

He went along a spacious hallway and stepped into the bathroom. The lights went on there. He touched the screen in the shower stall and activated the radio receiver tuned to the wave of the CD player, which was now transferring Bruce Springsteen’s music into the shower stall. Standing under the hot shower was a way of meditation for him. Like exercises, a hot shower is also good in the morning. Makes the blood circulate better. Especially in the brain. Which again increases efficiency. He took a shower trying not to think of the plans for the day. In eleven minutes he got out of the shower stall, wiped himself with a big bath towel and got dressed.

He had his breakfast quickly but savoring his meal. While he was eating, he listened to his home radio station in Sheffield.

After the breakfast, he put on his black suit and a white shirt and slipped a tie around his neck. He looked in the mirror. A thirty-year-old man with green eyes and light brown hair was looking at him. He smiled, and the young man in the reflection smiled back.

Andrew Thomas, General Manager of the Arkaim Hotel, was ready to face the new day.

Andy went out of his penthouse apartment, which was on the fifteenth floor of the hotel and walked into the elevator. Bruce Springsteen’s song “Worlds Apart” started playing there. The elevator technician had replaced the Cher album that had played in the elevator last week. Andy smiled. He liked it when the things ran smoothly. Even such a small detail as having the staff change the elevator music in time brought him a smile.

He pushed a button on the panel, and the elevator started descending to the first floor.

Andy had ambitious plans. He wanted to build an empire of his own and expand it from the east to the west, though an ordinary Western businessman would have done it just the other way around – from the west to the east. But the market in Western Europe had been saturated. And Russia was full of opportunities. Though the economy was shaken during the 2008 crisis, when he opened his hotel, Andy managed to pull through. Part of the success was due to Andy’s excellent team, which he had handpicked and built personally. One of the requirements for his staff was to have a good command of English. The people working at the hotel were mostly Russian, and though Andy had learned the Russian language quite handsomely, the working language among the hotel staff was English. He did not think the English courses were a waste of time, and he encouraged his employees to practice English constantly. The most capable ones were regularly sent to attend hotel management courses in the UK, Austria, and Switzerland. And all this brought added value to the quality of service in his hotel and raised its standards. His father, Henry Thomas, a guru in the world of hotel management, was proud of him. Andy felt frustrated he could not call him today. Last night, the Internet and phone connections went down almost simultaneously.

Andy looked at the display, humming to the music.

At some point, it was difficult to conduct business in Russia. Kickbacks, bribes, and all such things were an inseparable part of it. In many respects, Russia was an Asian country. Cronyism was a usual thing here. But nevertheless, he tried to risk it. He decided to start his business in the industrial city of Chelyabinsk. The city was big, over a million of residents in the metro area, more than fifty thousand tourists visiting the city every year. The city also boasted world sports events and attracted business people from all over the world. An ideal place to start a chain of hotels in Eastern Europe. On Valentine’s Day, they celebrated the fifth anniversary since the official opening of his hotel, and business seemed to be looking swell. Until recently …

His face darkened as the memories of the past thirty hours flashed in his mind. But he ought to focus and stop worrying. He pressed his hand to his forehead and tried to calm down.

For every problem there is a solution, he reminded himself. Always.

The display showed the number “5”.

He snatched a gun out of his shoulder holster and held it in front of him.

The second floor. Safety off. Andy was ready to face the new day.

On the first floor, the elevator clinked, flashing number 1 on the display, and the doors opened before him.

A large poster on the wall said, “Welcome to the Arkaim Hotel – your home away from home.”

He stepped out of the elevator and walked past the front desk. The reception clerk was not to be seen anywhere. Not good. The face of the company, as they say. One of the key figures in his business.

Andy walked past a fountain. The flowing red carpet led him to the lobby where the security guards were doing their routine. Andy nodded at them and concealed the gun in the holster.

A man was standing at the second set of entrance doors, which had been barricaded with couches, coffee tables, and vending machines, and looking at something through the gap in the door glass. Andy felt the cold air coming in from outside.

“Good morning, Goran,” Andy said.

The man turned around. He was in his early forties. Good-looking. Raven black hair and brown expressive eyes. Goran Pavic was the best executive chef he had ever met.

“Hi, Andy,” Goran said in English in his Serbian accent.

Andy came close to the heap of furniture, which was blocking the entryway. He could see that the front door was ajar.

“Is it getting any better?” Andy asked.

He almost jumped up as a hand smashed against the glass panel. A female looked at them through the glass, her right eye hanging on bloody tendrils and resting on her cheek. Half a dozen other anthropomorphic entities stared at them through the glass covered with cracks. They snarled and tried to break through.

Andy made a step back. “Bloody hell! I guess not.”

“I hoped it was all a bad dream when I woke up today,” Goran said. “I came down here and saw it was not a nightmare.” He looked at Andy. “We’re not sleeping.”

“This is all crazy,” Andy said. “But no, Goran. You’re not sleeping. You’re not Alice, and this is not Wonderland.”

An obese man in his late forties walked up to them. He was wearing a black suit with a name tag, which said, “Igor Sorokin, Security Manager.”

“Dobroye utro, Mr. Thomas,” Sorokin said. There was a portable radio set in his hands. “Your walkie-talkie. The mobile connection is still down.”

Andy could smell whiskey on the man’s breath, but said nothing about it. He took the device from him. “Spasibo, Igor. How’s the perimeter?”

“The front door is secure,” Igor tapped on the door glass, and a male monster snarled at him behind the glass. “The space in the lobby is too tight for these customers here, so they don’t get enough leverage to break in. They’re packed like sardines.”

“Still, one cannot be too careful,” Andy said. “Reinforce the barricade.”

“We’re on it,” Sorokin said.

“And we’d better clear the yard and close the gate,” Goran said. “Knowing that these sorry sickos walk around and can break in any minute just gives me the creeps.”

Sorokin nodded. “Yes, but we’re short of firepower.”

“What else?” Andy asked.

“The underground parking lot is gone,” Sorokin said and rubbed his eyes wearily. He seemed to be in desperate need of sleep. “And we need to have the parking lot door welded to make it more stable. But it’s holding. So, we’re golden here so far. Like we put it in Russia, we’re under Christ’s armpit.”

“That’s good to hear,” Andy said. “Give me two of your boys for a tour around the hotel.”

“Won’t be a problem.”

“Good,” Andy said. “And will you check on Diana, please? Tell her I’ll do the tour around the hotel myself today.”

Diana Grinina was Andy’s deputy manager, his right hand. She was so devoted to her job that after the shock wave had shattered the hotel windows and glass splinters nicked her cheek, she got four stitches and was back in business in an hour.

“Sure,” Sorokin said. “See you in three hours in the conference room.”

He left and Goran took a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Andy. “Here. I’ve translated your speech into Russian. It’s pretty good.”

“Thank you so much. This is my first emergency speech.” Andy took the sheet of paper and put it in his breast pocket.

Goran looked at his watch. “Okay. I’m gonna check the kitchen now. Keep in touch. And take care.”

“I will,” Andy said.

Goran left.

Andy looked at the vacant reception desk, frowned and turned to the guards, “For chrissake, find that front desk clerk, will you? Whose shift is it today?”

“It’s Pyotr’s.”

“Get him back asap. We’re a five-star hotel after all. I want the things to remain the way they had been before.”

Andy heard a rumble outside the hotel. He came to the window and saw a battle tank, trundling along the street and sending stranded cars flying.

“What are you talking about, Mr. Thomas?” One of the guards named Viktor stood by the window. “The world is going to pieces. Things are not going to be the same again.”

Three more tanks rushed down the street.

Andy sighed and kept silent for a bit. Finally, he said, “Is the radio ready?”

“It always is,” Viktor said.

Andy went to the security operations room. It was small. It does not have to be large. There were two desks, two chairs. CCTV monitors, and the armory. Generally, the room was occupied by one guard on duty. Sometimes the security manager sat at his desk, busy with paperwork. The work of a security guard was all about legwork.

A young guard with a bowl cut was watching the monitors.

“Any suspicious activity, Ivan?” Andy asked him.

“It depends on what you call suspicious,” Ivan said. He pointed at a screen. “There’s a man taking a piss on the stairwell between Level 5 and Level 6.” He pointed at another screen. “And there’s a woman in the parking lot, who has just eaten her poodle.”

“Good heavens,” Andy muttered and turned away.

He noticed that one of the monitors was switched off. So, it was impossible to see what was happening in the backyard.

“What’s with this one?” he asked the guard.

“That was on Friday. Kids broke the video camera on the western side of the building. With a pneumatic rifle, can you believe that?”

On a normal day it would not be a problem to have the technician fix it immediately, but with the yard swarming with these cannibalistic ghouls, the mission was next to impossible.

Andy took out his notebook and scribbled some notes. The walkie-talkie on his belt gave a hiss of static. He took it and pressed the button. The walkie-talkie crackled in Andy’s hand and a grumpy voice of the sanitary engineer told him that a pipe burst down in the basement. The water was cut off, but there was a decent puddle of water on the basement floor.

Andy clicked off the walkie-talkie. “Problems just keep piling up.”

Back in Harvard Business School, Andy received his MA in conflict management. He was trained to work under pressure and deal with various problems and conflicts.

For every problem there is a solution, he kept saying to himself. New situations, new solutions.

Andy sat in the chair, pushed buttons on the control panel to switch on the radio equipment. The loud-speaking communication system kicked in. He placed his note with the Russian text of his speech in front of him and spoke into the microphone.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen!”

Though I doubt that it’s good, of course, he thought, but he did not say it aloud.

He cleared his throat and went on, “My name is Andrew Thomas. I’m General Manager. As you very well know, we’re witnessing a bit of a complicated situation in this city. No one seems to know what’s going on at the moment. Apparently, the local authorities cannot shed light on the current situation either. The national news abounds only in reports of the recent meteor crash. But no information whatsoever is available on the true causes of the acts of violence we’re seeing in the city streets. There are some rumors of a contagious infection. On behalf of the Arkaim Hotel, I ask you to remain calm and not to attempt leaving the hotel. The building is surrounded by murdering insane persons. So I repeat – for your safety, and the safety of other employees and guests, do not try to leave the building. For further information, there’ll be a meeting in the conference room at 10:00 a.m. this morning. Once again, I’m Andrew Thomas, General Manager. Please enjoy your stay at the Arkaim Hotel – your home away from home.”

He read his speech aloud again, this time in English, and went out into the corridor. He saw Viktor, the guard, who stopped him and said quietly, “We found Pyotr, Mr. Thomas. He’s dead. Hanged himself.”