Enclave: A Novel of the Zombie Apocalypse

by Robert Morganbesser

  “Any severe trauma to the brain will destroy an infected subject.” Mahan said this the same way the average person would say, “I’ll have fries with that.”

  “What happened to the nurse?” Benton asked, staring at the image of her crying out in silent pain, blood pouring from the wound.

  Mahan clicked a control and her body, on an autopsy table appeared. Pale and nude, a series of images showed the progression of her disassembly until she no longer resembled a human being. Various parts went into jars, others into bags marked for incineration.

  “The bitten nurse led us to another facet of the virus; it is extremely communicable. Within a day of the attack, she fell ill and no antibiotic administered helped. There was no clotting in the wound nor did it begin to heal. In fact, it quickly worsened.” Mahan clicked his control and a new image appeared. Her hand was black with infection, greenish puss oozing around the bandages, the hand itself twice normal size. ‘Within a few hour’s the bite was suppurating. The bandages were changed every hour, but the wound never began healing. After being ill for two days, she fell into a three-day coma, when she awoke, she was just like the first subject, hungry for living flesh. Not long after waking, she took out Doctor Stine, who still clung to his belief that the revived would have their memories.”

  “And then?” Benton demanded.

  “The guard on duty followed his orders; he shot her.” Mahan clicked his control again and another image appeared. This showed the nurse as the guard shot her. Eyes clouded over, mouth dripping blood and a clear, viscous fluid, the nurse staggered silently as bullet wounds appeared in her body.

  “Bullets shattered her pelvis, tore off an arm but she still moved. Finally, he shot her between the eyes, destroying her brain. That’s why we simply autopsied her to bits. Destroying the brain destroys the subject. Doctor Stine went into the chamber. At the time he had no life signs and still doesn’t. Yet, twenty-two hours after infection he became subject number two.”

  “We did an autopsy on another subject while it was still (for lack of a better word) alive. We muzzled it, amputated the hands and feet to keep it from injuring anyone; then we cleaned out the thoracic cavity. The creature remained active until I took a bone saw, cut through the skull, and removed the brain. That destroyed it. That’s the one thing the subjects have in common with us. As long as it has an intact brain, it will be mobile and dangerous. Destroy the brain, or sever the head from the body, and the threat is eliminated.”

  Forester leaned forward, face a bit grey. “Does the head remain alive?”

  Mahan grinned humorlessly. “Yes, but it isn’t dangerous unless you fall on it.”

  Forester stared at the man, not amused by his comment.

  Benton stared at the monitor. “Can they see?”

  Mahan smiled at his employer the way a teacher would a bright student. “Ah, a good question.” Rising, Mahan pointed to an image of Stine, frozen on one of the screens. “When revived, the subjects have no functioning circulatory system. Their eyes dry out quickly. From tests, we’ve discovered that their vision is very poor.” Mahan raised a finger. “But, other parts of their nervous system, thanks to the virus, work extremely well.”

  Benton leaned forward, eyes intense. “They can hear?”

  Mahan nodded. “They hear very well. We’re still running tests, but I believe they also have retained their sense of smell.”

  Forester blinked. “If they aren’t breathing, how can they smell anything?”

  “My theory,” Mahan replied, “is that their olfactory ability is a side effect of the virus. Humans do emit a lot of odors, Forester; especially when frightened.”

  Benton rubbed a hand through his thinning hair. “So CR-IV is the newest, most stable version?”

  Mahan looked quite satisfied with himself as he nodded.

  Benton smiled with a quick and cruel lifting of the lips. “I want you to keep working on an anti-virus, keep creating a stockpile of the disease.” Benton started to rise, and then stopped. “These things never recognize us as human? We’re only food?”

  Mahan nodded. “Yes. Of the hundred subjects we’ve experimented on, they never recognize a living human as anything but food. The only thing they do recognize is one another. They never attack one another other than accidentally while fighting over food.”

  Forester looked aghast. “And that food is us?”

  Mahan nodded, the smug look on his face making Forester wish he could plant his fist into it. This was all one grand experiment to the scientist, an experiment that could mean the end of human life on earth. If the idea bothered Benton, he didn’t show it.

  Benton rubbed his chin. “Then I have another task for you, Doctor. Try to find some way to control these things or fool them into obedience. Who would want a bioweapon that can be turned on them?”

  Mahan stared but inside realized that Benton was far shrewder than he gave him credit. The truth was, an idea for such a control of some type had already occurred to Mahan, a team was already starting work on it.

  “I’ll see to it, Mr. Benton. Any reason why the sudden urgency?”

  “I have a feeling the military may just come knocking on my door, and that means, Doctor, that you and the staff here will become very, very rich.” The billionaire glanced at a clock on the wall. “Well, I have to be getting back to New York, Doctor Mahan. Keep me updated as to any new developments.”

  As Benton rose to leave he stopped suddenly, staring intently at Mahan and Forester. “Gentlemen, have you taken any ah, extreme precautions in case of a major problem here? Say, a breakout by the subjects, or some other kind of biohazard? I don’t want a recurrence of the Norton incident.”

  Forester smiled grimly. “Thanks to your contacts in the military, Mr. Benton, we have a fifteen kiloton nuclear weapon here. If we have to use it, everything within this mountain will be sterilized. No evidence of any kind.”

  Mahan looked displeased at this. “Yes and your security people have told me, time and again, that they are quite willing to use it. You’re protected Mr. Benton.”

  Benton’s face cracked into a craggy smile. “And if it’s needed, how will the weapon be detonated?”

  Forester stared, his dark eyes cold. “The weapon can be detonated on-site or remotely. Only two people have the codes, Howard and me.”

  Benton rubbed his chin. “I’d say they’re in good hands, then.”

  All three men rose, Benton clapping his hands together. “Well then, keep up the good work, Gentlemen. I can see us all being much richer one day, perhaps sooner than any of us thinks!”

  Before they could leave, Forester, putting a hand on Mahan’s shoulder said, “I have a last question, Doctor.”

  Mahan made a face as he stopped. “And that is?”

  “What if one of them gets out?”

  Benton and Mahan said at the same time, “What?”

  Forester’s face was cold. “What if one of these subjects of yours gets out? You said the virus is extremely communicable. What would happen?”

  Mahan tried to dodge the question. “One of them won’t get out. Did you see that chamber? They have no working minds and the only controls to open it are on the outside.”

  “Besides, Carl,” added Benton, voice filled with false joviality. “We have your excellent security team to keep things under control, don’t we?”

  But Forester wasn’t going to be dissuaded that easily. Solving problems before they happened were part of his job. Pointing at the screen showing the hyperbaric chamber, he said, insistently, “Accidents happen all the time. What if one gets out? How much damage?”

  With a sigh of frustration, Mahan threw his hands up in the air. “We’re fairly far from civilization, Mr. Forester. The subjects aren’t the most mobile of creatures. Assuming it could reach a small town without destroying itself in the wilderness, it could cause a small epidemic.”

  Foresters face glowed with silent triumph. “Well, is there a way to track them?”

 
; Benton watching the barely civil conversation, cast an icy glance on Forester. “Track them?”

  Mahan rubbed his chin, a thoughtful look on his face. “Track them? Well that would be quite easy. A subcutaneous device, much like the ones implanted in peoples pets would work easily. It would be dangerous to do it to the subjects already revived, but we could easily implant them in subjects prior to exposure.”

  “No.”

  Mahan and Forester turned to look at Benton whose face looked like it was carved out of granite. “No. No tracking devices.”

  “But, Mr. Benton,” Forester started to protest. Benton raised a hand and pointed a finger at his security chief. “Carl, this entire facility is a violation of the Manila Accords. Do either of you have any idea how much exposure of this facility would cost my company?”

  Mahan and Forester exchanged glances. Forester’s one of annoyance, Mahan’s calm as Benton continued. “Also, everyone involved will go to jail, most likely for the rest of their lives. I trust your security people to see that no ‘accidents’ happen, Carl. I don’t want anything about this facility to be tied to my company. Is that understood?”

  Both men could tell that this was one decision Benton would not back down on. Nodding, they acquiesced to their boss’s demands. There would be no tracking of the subjects.

  Once Benton left, activity in the facility went back to normal. The subjects were studied by the various teams of scientists; all trying to understand why the subjects ate human flesh. But the calm of Keystone was about to be permanently shattered from within.

  Chapter 2 - Espionage

  Keystone Research Lab

  Somewhere in the Alleghenies

  29 April 2028

  Doctor Mark Graham was a tall man. Thin and balding with a ferret-like face, many of his associates in the lab referred to him as ‘The Geek’ or ‘The Nerd’. Hired by Tyree just as the experiments with CR-II began, he had never been as accepted by that eccentric scientist as Mahan. Graham thought it was because Mahan was an ass-kisser, which Graham wasn’t, but he decided not to broach the subject with his superior, preferring to show his abilities in his work. A quiet, slow methodical worker, even before being assigned to Keystone, he was also something of a loner. When others gathered in the facility’s bar or gym, Graham was never there. When other scientists would talk about what they would do with the money they were earning, Graham said nothing. There was a simple reason why he remained aloof; Doctor Graham was an industrial spy. Recruited by TriPharm, Benton’s largest competitor, he was preparing to abscond with a sample of the virus. While Benton was setting up the Keystone facility, TriPharm’s headhunters noticed many top people in various fields had simply vanished. No papers published; no announcements of major breakthroughs. Once this happened, they reached out to Graham. For a rich price he would, for the second time, carry out an act of espionage. A few years earlier, he provided TriPharm with a sample of a multi-strain flu vaccine. Benton had gone berserk when his competitor’s version, which sold for a cheaper price, came on the market. But after an exhaustive investigation, Benton’s agents could find no evidence of tampering by the other company.

  TriPharm, run by a young, aggressive CEO, felt it cheaper in the long run to steal another company’s research. Had Graham asked for more money (most of the money would go to his religion, the Order of Lazarus) then, things in the near future might have been very different. Graham hadn’t intended on ever stealing from Benton again, knowing he’d been lucky to get away with it once. Benton was not a forgiving man. Others who betrayed his company and were caught, were serving long sentences in jail – those were the lucky ones. Some simply disappeared. But when TriPharm contacted him, just before he accepted his assignment to Keystone, with an offer that would leave him with enough security for ten lifetimes, he decided he would do it. What he would earn for this would free him from ever having to work again. So for Graham, it was a winning situation for him and his order.

  There was one problem, as of late, Howard had increased security. Previously, researchers were permitted a furlough (Howard insisted on using military terms) three times a year. Now it was once. In addition, their request had to be for more of a reason than they were tired of staring at the antiseptic walls of the facility. If one had a relative (few researchers in the facility did, as that was one of the prerequisites of being assigned here), they would be transferred permanently, voiding all bonuses involved with working in what was, essentially, a hardship assignment. For Graham, the deciding factor in attempting this second act of espionage was simple; he felt he should have been Doctor Tyree’s assistant, not the ego-driven Mahan. Getting revenge, for what he felt was a major slight, was as important as the money.

  Working in the cultivation lab, Graham spent the past few weeks keeping an eye on the cameras that watched everything. He knew he would have to move quickly. Tucking one of the vials of the culture into his glove, he replaced it with a vial filled with water, then as he changed in the clean room, slipped it into a pocket. Finally, during the night shift, he would go out for a breath of air (a regular routine with many of them) and, with the help of an aerosol delivered sedative, disable a guard, and disappear. He would then deliver the stolen sample to TriPharm as quickly as he could. He had stashed good hiking shoes (along with water and power bars) not far from the entrance. An experienced hiker, Graham had carefully planned his escape route to the nearest town. Then, he would call his contact. Based on past experience, he knew TriPharm would pay him well. The company was generous – especially when it came to hijacking another company’s hard work. Currently, he wasn’t thinking about anything other than completing his task and escaping. He would allow himself no distractions until the job was completed, first things first.

  Staring down at the vials of carefully cultured virus, Graham pondered the creation of this terrible weapon. What other purpose could a virus that brought the dead back have, if not as a weapon? It made him think of the Order and their preaching of the ‘end of days’. The last time he’d been on vacation, he told his docent about this. The man’s eyes lit up, telling him to be sure that he kept the order informed about the virus. According to the docent, when the dead rose, it would signal that the new world was coming; only believers in the true faith would go on to paradise. Putting these thoughts aside, Graham thought of the money that was waiting. He could feel sweat building up under his protective suit. Licking his lips behind the mask he wore, he decided that today might be the day. If he felt he could get away with his plan, TriPharm’s wait would be over.

  Thomas Howard, security chief for Keystone had been hand picked by Carl Forester for the position. When others within BPC security cried and moaned, Carl shut them up by letting them know about Howard’s military record. A member of the U.S. Army’s Military Police since enlisting in 2016, Howard served with the Criminal Investigation Division, and held a spotless record for uncovering threats within the various bases he was assigned to around the world. Twice, he had stopped potentially tragic attacks with good detective work. Howard was an orphan who, even with help from investigators, could find no living family. He was considering civilian jobs as the time to reenlist drew near, before his record came to Forester’s attention. After an interview with Carl, Howard eagerly accepted the new assignment, even though it meant being away from the outside world for potentially, a long time. Howard didn’t care about living in a big city. He wanted to make sure that his employers business was kept safe and, since Benton’s generosity was well known, he approached his new position eagerly.

  Howard sat in a room that few at Keystone knew about. He and Forester saw nothing wrong with covert monitoring of everything within the facility. Digital cameras with microphones were in place throughout the facility, all of them linked to the twenty flat screen monitors in this room. Besides himself, only Forester could access this room. Howard, trusting the basic running of everyday security to his second, Tomas Fernandez, spent a few hours a day in the room, scanning footage r
ecorded during working hours. To keep things near ‘normal’ within Keystone, they ran a nine-hour day, then the staff received the rest of the day off. Some of the researchers chose to work a bit longer, but they required a supervisor’s permission to do so. The reason for such a close watch was Mr. Benton. He was paranoid there would be a Norton-like outbreak.

  There were times when Howard wished the military were running this place. Civilians, especially when encamped in an out of the way workplace like this, had a litany of complaints that someone had to hear. In the military, while griping was practically part of the job description, the troops did their jobs.

  The average day’s activities were mundane, Currently a new subject was scheduled to be placed in the holding chamber, this one a woman taken from a local cemetery. Blonde and petite, wearing a black dress, she might have been attractive at one time; however, the wax the mortician replaced the left side of her face with peeled off when she revived. Looking around stupidly, she staggered out of the placement alcove and into the main chamber. As she passed the threshold, the door slid shut, locking her in with her fellows. As soon as she was out of the alcove, it filled with a chemical mist, sterilizing the area. She had been administered the smallest dose of virus thus far, taking nearly a full day to revive. As she entered, none of the other subjects paid the slightest attention to her when she joined them.

  Howard made a face and moved on. He had seen enough revived corpses. Currently there were fifty subjects in the chamber. Roughly once a week, a subject was either removed to be experimented on, or introduced. Any that showed any evidence of curiosity were the first to be experimented on. Howard wondered how many of these subjects Mahan would eventually go through. How many would be enough before he was satisfied enough to shut down the project.