LZR-1143: Infection

by Bryan James

  The fingers in the right hand were now twitching slowly, as if the man on the table was having the human equivalent of a doggy-dream.

  “We found, of course, that direct injection of the chemical into the blood stream causes death. But it also caused near instant reanimation. ETI-I’m sorry, Exposure to Infection-times varied depending on the location of the bite, but typically had run their course within forty-five minutes. Overall, an extraordinarily tenacious and aggressive infection.”

  Our assessment of the infection had been correct: infection timing depends on location of the bite. That must have been why it took Sam so long to succumb.

  The man’s eyes had opened, staring unblinkingly at those clustered around him. His mouth opened soundlessly in what we knew to be a soulless moan. Limbs jerked awkwardly against the leather restraints. The man we had seen before was no more. This was now, forever, his unformed substitute.

  Kopland’s voice droned on, untouched in affect by the reality of the horror unfolding behind him. “As of the date of this film, we have be unsuccessful in weaponizing this mineral in the manner mandated by our grant, or creating any version thereof that could allow for the creation of the desired “super-soldier.” While we have determined both an aerosolized and liquid delivery system for 1143, we have not been able to determine how to counteract it’s less… desirable… effects in the event that the thirteenth apostle is located. However, advances are being made every day, and we feel that we are very close to achieving that goal.”

  Thirteenth apostle? What the fuck did that mean? And weaponizing? So this is how the human race was to destroy the world. I always thought it would be a nuclear war. But that was before the government really put their minds to it. This was much more interesting.

  But it wasn’t the world we were ending, was it? It was just us.

  As I thought about it, I realized we were really doing the earth a favor. Eliminating the virile pestilence that had plagued the planet since we rose up off four feet and started playing with fire. We were doing in one fell swoop the work that the universe usually dawdled on about for millions of years: the mass extinction of an entire race of being.

  And the thing is, we couldn’t blame anyone but ourselves. It was appropriate to go down this way. As I watched this man speak so dispassionately and detachedly about a sickness so abominable that it lacked any appropriate descriptor, I knew we had created our own destruction. The bible came back to me in a fleeting moment of irrational whimsy.

  And he saw all that he had made. And on the seventh day, he rested.

  I guess it was time for us to take a rest.

  The video had cut to one of the cages we had seen in the other monitors. A rifle had been laid to rest on the floor of the cage, and a female scientist with her back to the camera was miming the physical gesture of picking up the gun. The creature, knowing only hunger, simply clambered against the fencing, eyes on the human. She turned to the camera with a grin on her face, sighing in mock desperation: the picture of a naive scientist, ignorant of the macro-chasmal implications of their work, focused only on the end for the sake of the end; means be damned. I could have shrugged off the personal affront that this sort of arrogance entailed if I hadn’t known the woman in the picture.

  It was Maria.

  Kopland continued on. “Continued funding is vital for our success. We urge you to continue to support this program. It is only through the Defense Department’s continued commitment to this program that we can hope to ever perfect this process, create the weaponized agent sought by DOD, and provide a counteracting agent in the event the thirteenth apostle is located.”

  The video faded out, and Dr. Kopland’s face dissolved into black. We sat there, stunned.

  “I can’t believe that something like that got out,” Kate replied, still staring at the screen.

  “Jesus, Maria.” I said softly, still in shock at seeing her picture. I remembered her face, but seeing it so alive and vibrant in that video-even though she was involved in what might be the Armageddon of our millennium-brought back a rush of emotion.

  “Yeah, well as personally devastating as that must be, we need to figure out where this guy could have kept any research on an antidote or a cure.” It wasn’t exactly heartless, but there wasn’t a lot of compassion in her voice. And there was certainly judgment.

  The wheels were turning slowly in my head, rust falling off slowly.

  “In a minute. I’m still at the ‘it getting out’ part. You’re absolutely right. How did something like this make it out of here? Despite our easy entrance today, this place was pretty locked down on a daily basis. Two separate guard booths, secluded location, barbed wire electrified fencing, the works. So are we supposed to believe someone stole this thing from the outside?”

  I shook my head. Not likely at all.

  “This had to be an inside job: someone from the inside knew how to get it out, how to spread it, and had the means to deliver it.”

  She looked incredulous, replying in an exhausted voice, “That’s absurd! Why would anyone so arbitrarily sentence humanity to something like this? What is there to gain?” She flopped down tiredly on the chair facing me, eyes doubtfully cast.

  Slowly they turned, step by step…I could hear the creaking of the giant wheels as they strained against the inertia of mental fog.

  “This was no accident! Think about it! How could they accidentally release something from this location that spawned initial outbreaks in Philadelphia, New York, Boston and DC all at the same time! If it was an accident, the townsfolk down the street that tried to eat us a few hours ago would have been the first ones down, and the military, the police, the fucking boy scouts - someone would have eradicated the infection before it got too far.”

  As I spoke, it all made sense in the most perverse of fashions… the facts were dropping into place.

  “No, no, no. This was intentional. Someone meant to do this and meant to let this thing out. There’s no other explanation. I’m not saying it was the government or the military; I wouldn’t believe that if you told me. There’s no possible scenario under which those guys win. If it was a coup, or an attack or something… people take over governments to control people, not to kill them.”

  “Why does it matter?” she asked, interested but understandably circumspect. “Isn’t the whole point that it’s out? And that we need to try to stop it? What the fuck does it matter how or when or where or who let it out. It could’ve been Elton John and a troupe of trained circus squirrels for all it fucking matters. We just need to figure out how to put it back in.”

  She still wasn’t following, and I had to make her understand. “That’s just it! If we knew who let it out, we might have a better idea of how to stop it! There have to be logs, or journals or… fuck! I don’t know! Something! This is a god damned government lab! Shouldn’t they have anal-retentive records or big brother spy cameras that can catch someone planning something like this - ”

  She interrupted me, still not a convert. “But who would do something like that? Why? Like you said, what is there to gain? Someone with a hard-on for survivalism? Some nerd that never got laid in high school looking for a reason to repopulate the earth? Who would do it?”

  The lights flickered briefly, and the monitors reset. All now showed black screens. The computer I had been trying to access flickered off once more. From the end of the hall, toward the elevator, I heard a metallic thud and then the sliding of the elevator doors. We raced to the hallway to see them slide shut, the trashcan inexplicably lying across the room, far from where we had left it.

  “Don’t suppose there are more zombie primates in here, do you?” Kate asked, raising her pistol and inching out of the doorway.

  “Not unless you brought them in with you,” said a familiar voice from behind us. “I wouldn’t turn around too quickly. Either of you. Move slowly, hands above your heads.”

  As I turned around slowly, I realized that I had my answer. He had lost weight since t
he film; his face was sunken and sallow. His eyes reddened by what I could only assume was a lack of sleep. The paunch had disappeared. But the black eyes were as hard as they appeared in the video. And the gun he held in his hand was steady and unwavering.

  “I’d appreciate your discarding your weapons,” he said politely. We stooped slowly to the ground, laying our guns on the floor.

  “So I guess that answers her question,” I said, understanding now. But the knowledge of the who didn’t inform the why.

  “What question?” Kate asked.

  “Why, who would do such a thing, of course,” he said, smiling. “That would be me.”

  Chapter 28

  He ushered us down the hall to a larger laboratory. From the elevator shaft, the vague echo of pounding reverberated through the stone of the basement walls. The whirring of the elevator motor was an ominous indication that someone or something might have wandered into an open elevator door. They need only meander into the right button to join our party.

  But then again, we had our own human problems now.

  “Please, have a seat,” said the good doctor, gesturing with the barrel of his snub-nosed revolver toward a pair of lab stools. We eased onto the cheap pleather upholstery as he leaned back against a tall cabinet on the opposite side of the room. A trashcan overflowing with food wrappers sat by the door; several cans of soda sat in various locations about the room, evidence of his occupation.

  It was a large laboratory, with a door on the opposite side of the room that led to a marked stairwell. It was an exit door, with the stairwell only accessible from the laboratory.

  However, the most conspicuous feature of the room by far was the gigantic window lining the rear of the room. Blank white walls, at times smeared with blood and other bits of zombie fodder, surrounded a white tiled floor that reflected the flickering fluorescent light of the room back through the window into the lab. A door to the chamber stood to the right of the window; an electronic keypad indicating it was a code-protected entrance.

  A zombie stood immobile at the window to the lab, eyes searching endlessly back and forth, left to right. Its head was cocked slightly to one side, mouth agape. Grayish brown palms were pressed mutely against the glass, leaving smudges of oily, bloody residue on the surface. Ragged clothes hung from its limbs; clothes that used to be white, but were stained forever in the brown and red hues of its past meals, now congealed and pressed into the fabric. A security badge for this facility hung from the creature’s lapel.

  “Would you like me to introduce you to Doctor Mendez?” said Kopland, gesturing toward the zombie in the room, who hadn’t moved or otherwise evidenced any indication it knew we were here.

  “He’s quite harmless behind the glass. Rather like a zoo animal; he’s only provoked when I need samples or he is to be fed.” Kopland flicked a switch on a panel close to the desk at the front of the room, and a small hatch opened abruptly on the other side of the small chamber. The thing formerly known as Mendez lunged across the room as if awakened from a deep sleep, shuffling with as much haste as it could manage toward the open hatch, moans filtering through the intercom system, which must have been activated by the hatch control. He reached the hatch, clutching in frustration at empty air, clearing having expected something more.

  Kopland laughingly flipped the switch once more, bringing the hatch closed with a metallic bang as the creature moaned in hunger and fury.

  “He must be hungry-I haven’t fed him in days.” He shrugged and looked meaningfully at me. “Maybe later though.”

  Punctuating the sentiment, Mendez threw himself against the glass as if he knew his tormentor to be present. As if he expected to reach Kopland through sheer force of desire.

  I must have flinched involuntarily at the creature’s staring eyes and moving hands and Kopland noticed, noting dryly, “Don’t worry about him. He probably doesn’t even appreciate that you’re real. Funny thing about these creatures. If they see you moving behind glass, but don’t see you actually go behind the glass, they don’t recognize you. They’re like dogs. I have a theory that their visual acuity suffers subsequent to the changeover, disallowing them from seeing in three dimensions. Fascinating stuff, really.”

  Ignoring the presence of the creature, which was now calming itself and resuming an immobile station against the glass, Kopland spoke unconcernedly.

  “I’m curious to know whether you’re alone,” he said, distance between us giving him the luxury of folding his arms and pointing his weapon away from our heads. “Of course, it doesn’t really matter, but I am somewhat appalled by the effort it would have taken to reach our little slice of heaven.”

  “We’re it,” I said before Kate could speak. I didn’t know if she was inclined to let him in on the fact that there might be others out there, but I didn’t want to risk it.

  “Remarkable,” he said, and stared at us for several long seconds before moving to a locked cabinet behind a desk, keying the lock, and removing several vials of a blue liquid. I wanted to ask if he had moved the trashcan from the elevator door, but if he hadn’t, I didn’t want him to know that someone-or something-was down here with us. It might be our only opportunity for a distraction.

  “I’m guessing you came all this way for this?” he asked, placing the four vials on the counter in front of him. He still held the gun, now pointed to the floor, but he was too far away to reach for it. I couldn’t believe our predicament. We travel a hundred miles over zombie-infested territory as part of what could have very well been a delusion-inspired nightmare, only to wind up the hostages of what appeared to be a mad scientist.

  Still don’t believe you’re making this up?

  That voice was starting to make more and more sense.

  We didn’t reply to his query. He smiled, knowing that he was correct and that no affirmative nod was needed.

  “A shame, really. A hearty effort. But alas…too late. I’m supposing out of mere conjecture that you believe this to be a cure?” he said, holding up the blue vials. He laughed.

  Apparently this was funny?

  Ha fucking ha.

  “You’re not the first to make this mistake. In fact, Mr. Mcknight, you are, or should I say were, intimately acquainted with the last person to embrace this belief.” He picked up a vial of the liquid, removing the stopper and slowly tilting it’s open end over a sink. I jerked involuntarily as the contents slowly fell into the drain.

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” Kate’s voice was confused and troubled, as if she couldn’t conceive of the type of personality that would have sanctioned such evil.

  His smile faded not at all as he unstopped a second vial. “I would think that my previous admission would have answered that last question, so I won’t entertain the inquiry except to say that my presence here was required to ensure that no… complications… interfered with my endeavor.”

  “Why would you do it?” I asked, hoping in vain that he would stop pouring to speak. “What could you hope to gain from letting this thing out and killing all these people?”

  His voice rose and his eyes narrowed. “Oh sir, don’t pretend to lecture me on morality. Not considering your acquaintances and their transgressions. Mine was a path divinely inspired; yours is one of degradation and Hollywood trash. Of those who were to suffer under this cataclysm, your kind was to be front and center.” His face was serious as he slowly emptied the second vial.

  “OK, you need to drop the Dr. Evil act and say what you mean. You’re going to kill us anyway, right?”

  He tilted his head momentarily and then nodded, the corners of his mouth edging toward another pleased expression.

  “So what the hell does it matter?”

  He nodded. “You’re correct, what does it matter. You’re also much more anxious for all the details of this little scenario than I would be, were I so intimately involved.” He tossed the second, now empty vial into a trashcan and looked up at me again, leaning against the lab table in front of him.
His face was cruel, his eyes hard. Small hands flexed compulsively on the counter in front of him.

  “I wonder, Mr. McKnight…how much of your wife’s death do you remember?”

  The question hit me like a fist to the gut. What did that have to do with anything?

  But in the back of my head, I suspected something. I just didn’t know what it was. And that was what scared me.

  “Did she seem different to you that night? A little off? Appetite was a little changed? Maybe she liked her meat rarer than she had ever ordered it before?” He was enjoying drawing this out.

  “Go to hell,” I said, feeling nauseous. I suddenly hated that he knew things.

  “Mike?” Kate’s voice filtered through a mist of confusion from somewhere distant.

  My mind was on fire. Her face was there again, distorted and grotesque.

  A flash and my hand was grasping hers, flinging her away from me as she pawed for my shoulder. Her arms flung wide as she tumbled backwards and I reached for her instinctively, trying to arrest the fall. A needle-prick of pain in my palm as I reached for her. She stumbled back clumsily onto the floor, but rose slowly again. Implacably, she moved toward me. In her right hand, a metal device of some sort hung uselessly from a stiff finger. She moved slowly, clumsily. Her mouth moved, as if she was trying to speak. But no sound would come.

  In the corner of the room, behind the door, was my golf club. I had been practicing my putting. I was going to play on Saturday. I was down to a 13 handicap.

  “Oh, I think not,” he replied, bringing me back, sounding confident. “I think you remember enough, don’t you?”

  “She was infected.” I stated, not a question but an affirmative declaration. This much I had suspected.

  He nodded. “But you must wonder,” gesturing around the room, “how that came to be. We took all the precautions, had all the necessary safeguards. It is absolutely true that the virus would not have been allowed to pass the threshold of this facility in its compound or elemental state.” He affected a countenance of mock confusion.