The APOCs Virus

by Alex Myers

  "Now it's time to get to work."

  Dr. Puck and his assistant made half‑moon incisions in the cadavers starting in the soft flesh behind the ears. The scalpel cut quickly and efficiently as they moved from one body to the next, in assembly‑line fashion. After Dr. Puck made the cut, the subordinate seized the hair on the temples, and with a hard jerk downward, removed the skin from the skulls. They didn't have to be neat; there would be no one to view these poor souls in an open casket funeral.

  "This is always been my favorite part." Puck said with a sickly grin. He picked up the electric saw and made 360-degree cuts around the skulls. He removed the pieces of bone like Jewish yarmulkes exposing the delicate gray brain tissue inside.

  Ava was appalled at the way Dr. Puck made light of the situation. She wasn’t sure she liked her boss before, but now she was sure she didn’t now. She thought of the pathologists who work in this environment of death day after day. She supposed after the novelty wore off, it became just another job. Something that washes away at the end of the day as easily as the blood off their dissection aprons. But did it? Or is there always that stain, that shadow of blood detergent can't wash out?

  Ava had noticed the difference in the shapes of the heads of the cadavers, but after seeing the differences in the brains, she wondered if she had really seen it. She saw that the cerebrospinal fluid went from a clear, watery consistency in the brain of the alcoholic, to a cadmium-mushroom color in the skull of the Apoc. She alternately studied Dr. Puck and the brains as he laid them on four metal trays each in front of the original owner. It went from the normal to the obscene. She tried to think of what exactly caused the grotesque deformity in the brain of the Apocs.

  "As you can see, Miss Porter, the Apoc's brain has an extremely formidable hypothalamus,” Dr. Puck said.

  He sounds like he's talking to a two-year‑old, Ava thought. The hypothalamus, of course, any first year medical student would have known that. Instead of answering, she simply widened her eyes at him.

  He could see she wasn't going to give him the pleasure of admitting she hadn't known what the disparity was. So he continued. "As you may . . .” He paused and gave her a slight look of condemnation. “ . . .Or may not know, the hypothalamus lies at the base of the brain under the two cerebral hemispheres. It is a specialized nerve center connected with other parts of the brain and the pituitary gland. This area of the brain is also closely linked with the senses of smell and sight, with behavior and the organization of memory. But, my dear Miss Porter, that is not the only disturbing peculiarity . . .."

  He moved to the table of the old man that had died of non‑MDR‑V6 complications. Still carrying the brain of the Apoc, he set it on the metal tray and turned both over. "As you can now more clearly see the hypothalamus is not the only brain region affected by the MDR‑V6 Virus. Notice here, the frontal lobe of the derelict that succumbed to a heart attack—normal. And now notice the frontal lobe of the Apoc . . .."

  Ava didn't have to examine it closely to see the shocking dissimilarity. The frontal lobe of the Apoc had withered in on itself like a deflated balloon. It was no longer the pale gray/blue of the surrounding areas, but had taken on a purple/black color. She remembered enough from studying the brain to know that the frontal lobe was the center for complicated thinking and worrying thoughts.

  "This is not the first time a condition such as this has been diagnosed—although never before has it been so magnified. There is a rare brain dysfunction known as 'Sham Rage'. Some symptoms are: hypersexuality paradoxed with feelings of inadequacy, extreme and violent rage and unjustified indignation." Puck stared at the metal trays almost purposely avoiding looking at Ava as he proceeded with his explanation. "Some so-called scientists believe that the hypothalamus is the center for extrasensory perception. Although, I myself, think that the whole area of research is nothing but subterfuge. Of the other hard facts we have, the most unexplainable is the hyperactivity of the thyroid gland. The metabolic rate of an Apoc has been so greatly propagated that the nerve cells should have burned out. We have been able to get accurate readings and the temperature of the Apocs is 110 degrees plus. The longer they have had the virus, the higher the temperature."

  The lab tech was on the far side of the room working unnoticed by Ava.

  "If you would please, Miss Porter, accompany me to the work station."

  She followed Puck realizing she hadn't spoken, even those "yes’s" or "ah‑huhs" that perpetuate conversation or show attention, in a long time. She still couldn't fathom why he had insisted she transfer to the Center when she was needed more than ever at the CDC in Atlanta. He was the one who decided she made a better "PR" person than a research scientist. Ava watched as the lab tech used an eyedropper to put vicious yellow syrup on a white rat. The fluid was directed to an exposed piece of skin on the research animal's backside. A similar drop was placed on a piece of living tissue in a petri dish.

  Completing his task, the middle‑aged aide‑de‑camp gathered up his tools and left the room. Ava suddenly felt very apprehensive about being left alone with Dr. Puck.

  "Now Miss Porter please step forward and observe the effects of one milliliter of MDR‑V6 on the chemical make‑up of living tissue." Puck said. He pulled the cage with the rat to the edge of the counter. Ava was not prepared for the cacophony that followed. Though they were in one of the innermost laboratories in the Center's seven‑story complex, she was sure they heard the screams of agony from the rat six floors down.

  A brackish foam gurgled from the patch of pregnable hide on the hindquarters of the animal. The rat's face was gripped with a guise of torment and panic. Its mouth was gaping open as far as it could stretch. The skin on the corners of its face looked like it was going to rip. A high-pitched squeal—almost too loud for such a small creature, echoed in her ears. Ava watched as it jumped in the air in fits of agony filled with shudders and spasms.

  As strong as Ava liked to portray herself, she finally had to turn her head from the atrocity.

  "Excuse me Ms. Porter, if this is too much for you, maybe we should bring in someone else," Puck said demandingly.

  Someone else for what, she wondered? She swallowed hard and finally said, "I'm sorry Dr. Puck, please continue."

  "Thank you," he said with a frown. "This is what is known as the infectious stage. In a higher life form, such as an ape or human, this stage can last anywhere from twenty to sixty minutes. In a rodent of this size and body weight it usually lasts five to ten minutes. Mass, natural resistance, metabolism, all comes into play."

  "I think you will find this quite interesting," he said as he removed a piece of the tissue from the petri dish and placed it on a slide. He then placed the slide under the micron microscope.

  Ava watched in awe, as far removed as Dr. Angus Puck was from the actual research that went on in the facility, he showed an uncanny skill with the laboratory instruments. She could see how this proficiency as a scientist had led him to his administrative post. Dr. Puck's expertise in consulting the Meredith Pharmaceutical group had been well documented in many leading medical journals. His philanthropy was well known also. He not only donated all his government salary to charity, but a good portion of his dividends from Meredith as well.

  He adjusted the output monitor of the microscope.

  "First, I'll demonstrate the MDR‑V6 solution on the living tissue at 500x magnification."

  The screen displayed a brackish yellow solution, foaming and bubbling, spreading over the pink susceptible tissue of the rat's back.

  "Now here's 5000x magnification," he said, slowly adjusting the microscope. "That will take us down to a cellular level."

  The monitor displayed a team of white and brown cells ingesting the smaller red and white. Consumed by the much larger white and brown cells, the smaller red and white host cells remained intact, trapped inside the invaders. Then the most enigmatic part of the process happened. The invading white and brown cells intertwined with each other forming an im
penetrable bond.

  "Unbelievable!” Ava exclaimed. "The mdr‑v6 solution is like an acid."

  "Not quite, when an acid is applied to a substance, a third new substance is created. What we're seeing here is 'A' being applied to 'B' and not making 'C'. Instead, it creates a stronger 'A'—one that is virtually indestructible. The bond that is created is unaffected by every antibody and anti‑viral drug now known to man. Even toxic substances that should kill the host leave the MDR‑V6 unscathed."

  Within five minutes the screen was filled entirely with the white and brown infesting cells.

  "But watch as I put a single droplet of ordinary water on the transmuted section." He squeezed a droplet on and stepped back to observe.

  "Incredible," Ava said, "it's like an explosion!"

  The yellow and brown cells were dissipating almost instantaneously, leaving perfect red and white ones in its place.

  "The red and white cells look completely rejuvenated. Are they?” Ava asked.

  "Not only are they normal, they're better."

  "Better? How so?"

  "In the cleansing or purifying stage as we call it, when the water is added, there's more than just a breakdown of the MDR‑V6 infection. It's like straining the host cells through a sieve. Anything foreign, any form of toxicity, stays with the deteriorated MDR‑V6, and is expelled. In living specimens this happens through the skin."

  Puck put on his glasses and took off his bloodied apron, reached inside his lab coat and unbelievably pulled out and lit a cigarette. Ava had never seen anyone smoke in a laboratory much less a government building. She stared at him with amazement and shook her head, she supposed some habits were hard to break.

  She focused back to the screen displaying the cleansed tissue. “How long is the cleansing process a viable option? The reason I ask is, I heard we immersed a captured Apoc victim and he almost completely dissolved." Ava moved to avoid the smoke of his cigarette. She thought his smoking wasn't the only incongruity she had encountered with her boss.

  "The best results have been achieved with the research animals sometime between the infectious and metamorphic stages. An hour on the low end, on the high end . . . we're not sure. We've had a chimpanzee survive and thrive two hours after exposure to MDR‑V6. It's impossible to calculate the optimum point of cleansing. The host cell needs to be intact inside the already linked MDR‑V6 cell. If the cleansing process is performed after exposure, but before the MDR cells are joined total chaos follows. Observe."

  Puck picked up a beaker full of water and placed it on the still screaming rat. The animal stopped shaking. Large bulbous eruptions appeared and disappeared on its body and tail. The rat began a shuddering, that turned into an intense shiver. Its fine white hair started falling off, revealing large patches of pink skin. The front paws clawed at its ears until they began ferociously bleeding. The rat's red eyes grew dark and filled with blood. Both finally burst and overwhelmed the rest of the cage with gore. In less than a minute the rodent's entire body was reduced to a swirling, gelatinousness mass on the floor of the enclosure.

  Ava gazed into the smoldering mound and could see parts of the rat's feet, tail, and internal organs consolidating.

  "This is all quite amazing and frightening Dr. Puck, but what is my part in all this?"

  "The MDR‑V6 concentrates we are using have been gathered from two of the three Apocs we are keeping captive here at the center. The virus has to be from a live carrier, even one hour outside of the host is too long. Plus, and we have no idea why it works this way, but if the host succumbs, the virus turns off, dies, is not longer viable. The two Apocs that we are using have only been exposed to the virus for seven days." Puck wrung his hands together and moved to a stool next to the woman. She could feel his unease as he took her hand. It was everything she could do to not yank it away in revulsion.

  "Ava, I may call you Ava can't I?" He continued without giving her a chance to reply.

  His gratuitous demeanor automatically sent up flags of warning to her. He was looking at her hand like he was going to eat it.

  "We have had the two Apoc patients for the duration of their infection. You see Miss Porter, excuse me, Ava, they were—ah—they were infected here at the center. It's the yellow team."

  "Miles and Fernandez?" she exclaimed.

  "I'm afraid so."

  She quickly withdrew her hand from his and walked halfway across the room. "What did you do to them?"

  "Wait, it's not what you think," he said as he got up and moved toward her, then stopped.

  "I thought they were the ones that provided you with this information."

  "They are, or were indirectly, until they too, were infected."

  "How did it happen?"

  "We lacked a grasp of the highly infectious state of the MDR‑V6 Virus. We only first heard of this two weeks ago, and for only ten days have we thought of it as a serious health threat.” Sensing her growing anxiety, he motioned for her to sit. "Please, let me explain." He moved nearer to her and she could smell his smoky breath.

  "You're aware that the Maryland National Guard and Baltimore Police have been providing us with dead Apoc victims. Or at least what's left of them. A week ago a police cruiser collided with an Apoc. The accident crushed his legs and left him unconscious. Before he could come to and his legs had a chance to regenerate, a medical team sedated him and then flew him here by helicopter. We placed him in a cage we use for the apes." Puck tried to read Ava's face to no avail.

  "When the thing came to us we were surprised it could speak. Not only could it speak, but could carry on a conversation. It told us its name was John Spencer and before the change, he had been an investment broker. We asked him a barrage of questions—everything from what the transformation had felt like, to how often a day he felt the need to urinate. He really appeared to be quite rational, and even agreed to help us with the research, offering himself up as a guinea pig.

  "After a while we started feeling guilty about keeping him in a cage meant for a laboratory animal. He acted so rational, so reasonable—not at all like the other Apocs we’ve encountered. Except, every now and then, he would ramble on about, the need. We found out the need was the MDR‑V6's need to consume more red blood cells, it needed human DNA.”

  Ava was happy she was sitting down because suddenly she felt nauseous. "You mean to tell me Dr. Puck‑‑"

  "Angus."

  "Dr. Puck! You mean to tell me that what we’re dealing with is some sort of, genetic vampire?"

  "What I'm trying to tell you is we're dealing with a highly infectious virus. A virus that yes, has some of the same symptoms of the vampires of lore, but I see a closer kinship to the malady I described as sham rage or even rabies."

  "Tell me . . ." she found it very hard to speak. "Tell me what happened to Miles and Fernandez?”

  "We felt the need to bring in the red team also, once we got an idea of the gravity of the matter. They were working in shifts with the Yellow. Miles and Fernandez were working in twelve hour shifts. The strain and urgency was getting to us all. It was about ten hours into one of their twelve hour duties when it happened. Both team members were working in a Level 4 Alpha lab with this Apoc Spencer, this highly cooperative Apoc. According to the observation video, Fernandez claimed that instead of this Spencer, it was his dead father in the cage, and that he needed to let him out. Before Miles could stop him, Fernandez had unlocked the Apoc's cage."

  "You didn't have restraining chains on him?"

  "We did, and the thing broke them."

  "Impossible."

  "You would think wouldn't you? We have it all on videotape. Before security could stop the beast—they at first tried to sedate it and they used enough tranquilizers to stop a herd of elephants, they finally had to shoot it, but not before it had nearly drained the two of all their blood. They were already starting the genetic transformation by the time the medics got to them.

  "It's a good thing they were in the Alpha Lab, or we would have
never been able to contain the thing—or Miles and Fernandez."

  "But what about their families?" She asked.

  "Both the yellow and red teams were hand picked. They had none."

  "So there weren't any questions asked?"

  “By whom?” Puck tried a softer approach. “It gave us a wonderful opportunity to study the virus in all its stages—on human subjects."

  Ava got up and turned her back on Puck. She knew they all were expendable in his eyes.

  "Until then, all we had to work with were expired Apoc victims. Since water immersion is still the best method of controlling them, the only ones that didn't disintegrate before we could study them were the Apocs that were decapitated. Even then, the MDR‑V6 rapidly deteriorates almost immediately outside a live host. If we were—are, going to find a cure, we need an active MDR‑V6 culture. What we need now is an Apoc that has gone through the complete metamorphic stage."

  "And just how long does that take?"

  “We are not sure—two weeks, three weeks, it's hard to tell. We calculate that the current rate of infection, figuring differing absorption rates for different individuals, to be somewhere around twenty‑one. Of course, it's hard to tell. We didn’t even know about this disease before two weeks ago. For reasons we don't understand as yet, some parts of the body change over much slower, for instance: the heart, the spinal column, and brain."

  "How come I keep getting the feeling that there's a third and final stage that you're not telling me about?" Ava probed watching his face for clues. She knew that the years of being head of the center, and the countless sessions before congress for money appropriations, had made him a tough nut to crack. She usually followed her instincts, and her instincts were telling her not to trust him.