The guy sauntered over to where Benton sat. They stared each other down. Benton’s fists clenched to the point of pain. His eyes misted despite the heat of his anger. Punching the CDC would land him in jail or worse. Then he’d be no good to anyone.
“I do understand, you ass. But, I won’t do it. I will not kill any patient. I took an oath. You should be familiar. If they awake again, I don’t see a downside,” Benton argued.
“Listen, Doctor!” David raised his voice. “You will do as I say. I outrank you here. I’m the government.”
Dr. Benton stood up. He brought himself face to face with this arrogant bastard.
“No, you listen. You can’t outrank someone when you’re asking them to break the law. I’ll have your job. I’ll have you in jail. I’ll have him in jail too,” he threatened, pointing to the guy at the door. “We don’t KILL!”
A shuffling of feet could be heard in the hall. The military guy had removed his bloody glove and deposited the murder weapon into the waste can. Then, he opened the door and squeezed out. Benton heard his commands to his staff.
“We do this to save other lives. This must be wiped out completely. These people suffer more once they wake back up, as you call it. They turn violent, you righteous dick. There’s more here at stake than your Hippocratic oath,” David challenged.
In each other’s faces now, the military guy left in the room stood inches from their standoff. Each man turned though at a sound on the bed. Past the two bodies blocking him, Benton watched as the student’s arm twitched. It then went into a mini-seizure of its own.
“Shit, you missed,” David growled.
The military man left grabbed for another rubber glove and then pulled another covered knife from a pocket on his uniform. Before he could get his glove all the way on, the student sat straight up. Benton’s mouth fell open. His brain scrambled for a possible explanation. The student raised her arm. Her contorted fingers, still shaking, she took a swipe at the guy. Lucky for the military man, he had good instincts. He avoided the hand completely.
Dr. Benton stepped around David. To his experienced eye, too much blood had soaked into the sheets for this girl to ever move again. He swallowed down bile, a reaction he hadn’t had to blood since his days at medical school. Although the blood wasn’t the true issue. The true issue hung out there in the suspension of disbelief.
The military guy, now gloved, slammed the small girl back down onto the bed. A horrid moan came from somewhere deep inside her. He swallowed an errant sob. The military man forced her head to the side again. This time he stabbed relentlessly. Each time the blade entered flesh, he turned it slightly. He’d almost severed the head by the time he finished. The cries of the dead girl had died away. The sound of metal on bone replaced them. His teeth hurt as if someone had raked their nails down a chalkboard.
“Enough,” commanded David.
The sound of his voice made Benton jump. He grappled for the wall. His own breaths sounded odd. The air kicked on, chilling the cold sweat that covered his skin.
“We will leave the necessary knives as well as instructions for the next doctor in charge.”
“I’m the head doctor on this floor.”
“Not anymore.”
“What?”
“Cuff him,” he said to the military man, “he’s coming with us.”
Chapter Three
“A study published in a clinical research journal showed that primitive stem cells taken from bone marrow showed great functional plasticity. For example, after a transplant, these stem cells, from human donors, were discovered in diverse tissues in the recipient. The list includes the inner cellular lining as well as skeletal and cardiac muscle.”
Chase paused. The students who cared scribbled out notes. As he had in college, many sold typed copies of their notes to the students who preferred to just listen. Of course some brought tape recorders, but others just paid the price for others’ notes.
“Remember, a stem cell compartment in bone marrow from human donors is extremely complex. A study of cells using Hoechst dye staining…”
His cell phone beeped, breaking his train of thought.
“I’m sorry, I usually remember to…”
The sounds of multiple cell phones interrupted him. The mixed melody caused his shoulders to rise. Puzzled, he picked up his phone. He swiped and an emergency broadcast text from the college appeared. After a quick read, he quieted his students.
“So, you now get three extra days of spring break. Before you begin to party, I feel the need to remind you of how to protect yourselves from this current outbreak of meningitis that has gotten you out of classes early this year. Especially since this strain does not seem to care that a person has been previously vaccinated. It’s all common sense, especially for med students of your rank. Stay clean and don’t have any fun. No sharing of foods or fluids of any kind in any manner. In fact, why don’t you just stay at home locked in your rooms and talk on the phone with your friends instead. Oh, and cancel all trips to the beach. Dismissed.”
He gave the stampede a few minutes to die down to a small roar. Then, he attempted to exit the lecture hall. Grabbing his phone, he called his graduate assistant, Lucas Benton. They’d agreed to work through break on research since neither had anyone to go home to. Sadly, Chase was divorced, and Lucas’ home sucked. Both had apartments close to campus. Only Lucas, funding his education with the help of mounting student loans, had to endure roommates. This made him a great assistant. He’d rather sleep in the lab than go back to the room he paid rent for.
“So, three extra days. You want to take some time to relax or work through it?” Chase asked.
“Work. What do you think? If I could get away with it I’d ditch the rent. Live in the lab.”
They could stay there all night working, but the only shower in the place was for chemical burns. Even that was down the hall in another lab. When he finally walked into his lab, he found Lucas on the phone. His jaw tense and lips pursed, he could tell the news was bad. Staying back to give him privacy, he entered the office connected to the lab. He should clean up his desk and file papers, but he hadn’t the desire. Instead, he sat down and put his feet up. According to his watch, he still had ten minutes of class left. This was found time.
Minutes later, Lucas entered the office and threw himself in the reclining chair. They’d both caught quite a few naps there. When his butt hit the cushion, his arms flew out to the sides and then fell with a thud onto the worn arms of the chair. Chase sat up. Lucas’ eyes were dilated, and his face red.
“What is it there son?” Chase asked, doing his best old scientist impression.
He’d done it once a long time ago as a joke. However, seeing the misty-eyed reaction it had gotten in his nose-to-the-grindstone, too-serious-for-his-own-good assistant, he’d kept up the joke. It had become a term of endearment when alone in the lab. Never having had the pleasure of having children himself, he’d warmed to it easily. They filled a void for each other. The boy had been a blessing.
“My brother, Ken, the doctor out in Boston, he just lost his job. And the story he told me is so freaking unbelievable. Even to him and he lived through it! There has to be something more to this meningitis outbreak than they’re telling us. On another note, I really wanted to share with him the research we’re doing here. Thought something different might cheer him up. But I’d need your permission first.”
“Let me think on it, but first tell me what happened to Dr. Benton.”
Lucas swore Chase to secrecy, and then let all the details spill. His brother had done the same with him. After they hashed out the details from the killing to the reanimation of a dead girl, they grew frustrated and thus eager to get back to work.
“The strange thing is the rate of decomposition still,” Lucas caught up Chase. “I wish I could put my finger on what’s happening here.”
“It will come. Patience,” Chase suggested, his eyebrows raised.
“Yes, cause all t
he answers come in this world, right? What happened to my brother will one day make sense too, but won’t make a damn bit of difference for the girl who was killed,” Lucas’ huffed.
“It’s okay, Lucas. Science is frustrating. Life doesn’t always go as we planned, even with the best of intentions. I’m sure they’ll find a logical explanation to what happened to your brother’s patient. It may be too late for her, but eventually we hope it will save others. Listen to your elders, boy,” Chased attempted a joke.
“There you go acting like you’re ancient and calling a man of twenty-five a boy. You’re barely over forty, not eighty-five there grandpa.”
Although glad Lucas had kept up the joke, Chase’s mood fell.
“Some things in life age you more than others. I went from military brute to science geek. That’s a hell of a transformation to make.” Chase’s words had fallen to a whisper.
“You were special forces. Even though I don’t know what that special was, you had the smarts to go along with your muscles.”
“Let’s turn on the TV. See what the media is feeding the public about the meningitis outbreak.”
Good try Lucas, he thought. The boy often tried to find out more about Chase’s military days. Like any other day, he wasn’t about to share. This boy thought he was someone special. He wouldn’t destroy the fantasy.
The beautiful brunette on their local news droned on in her best serious voice. She spoke about the outbreak as updates scrolled across the bottom of the screen. Chase tried to focus on both. He always could watch TV and read at the same time.
“We now have confirmation of meningitis on two hundred different campuses among other places of school and work. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention is meticulously checking into each case. The death toll has risen far beyond the usual statistics for this disease. Rumors of a new strain, one resistant to our current vaccine, have been spoken of but not confirmed. Makes sense though doesn’t it, Bob?” she asked of her co-host.
Without letting him answer, she continued, “Do you think that the CDC is being overcautious or not cautious enough in their latest reports to the public to try to prevent the spread of this simply horrible disease?”
“Maybe both. All we know for sure is that there is a lot they’re not telling us,” Lucas spat. “I don’t know what happened back in Boston with my brother, but he’s never lied. Hell, he doesn’t even exaggerate.”
“Want to take our chances and go out for a burger? We have all week to order pizza in,” Chase suggested to distract the boy.
All Lucas had was his brother, the now former Dr. Ken Benton. Separated by too many states to count, he didn’t know the last time Lucas had seen him. He though the boy had mentioned something about a Christmas gift two years ago. Dr. Benton had sprung for round-trip airfare for him to visit. How both boys had ended up such scholars with such big hearts Chase couldn’t fathom. They grew up with an abusive father whose greatest gift to them had been to abandon his family. That left them with a drug-addicted mother who’d let them raise themselves. They’d done a fine job, which he reminded the boy whenever he could.
At least dinner had been uneventful. It would be the closest thing they got to a break. They’d run into a student, a friend to use the term loosely according to Lucas. The student complained of feeling bad, so he’d left with his food, joking about having meningitis.
“One can’t escape the news story if you tried,” Chase stated after the student left.
“Some feel the need to take advantage of it to gain sympathy,” Lucas added.
Twenty minutes later, they’d raced through the chilling night air. They weaved through the crowds of students. Chase noticed Lucas’ natural ease of movement. He twisted and turned as he tensed. He talked himself through it. Halfway to the lab, a drunk kid ran right into him. He straightened his arms not to push the student down. Most med students acted like adults. It was the idiot few that didn’t that obstructed the commons area. By the time they reached the building that housed their lab, Chases sighed. The halls were empty. They got right to work.
“Well, after several hours of gaining more questions than answers, I think I’ll give these old bones a rest,” Chase muttered.
“Sleep tight, gramps,” Lucas laughed.
“Lucas, stop worrying over the rodents,” he sighed. “I hate some aspects of our job as much as you do, but remember…”
“"It is the greatest good to the greatest number of people which is the measure of right and wrong. Jeremy Bentham. I know!" Lucas had interrupted.
“Night.”
“Night.”
Just barely a few doors down the hall, he thought he heard something break. He stopped to listen. The sound had been faint. He couldn’t remember if he’d locked Lucas in. He then heard Lucas yell his name. As he broke into a run, he remembered hearing footsteps coming up the opposite stairwell. There’d been no reason to wait to see who’d arrived. One room away, they heard a louder crash. He picked up his speed. The door stood wide open.
Turning the corner, his shoes squealed. He grabbed the doorframe to steady himself. Lucas stood on his desk in a defensive crouch. He had a chair in his hands. Moving into the room like the soldier he’d once been, he spotted the kid from the restaurant grabbing for Lucas. His moans or groans or whatever the hell sound he made sent the hairs on the back of his neck to attention.
“Cut it out,” Chase yelled.
Glazed eyes focused in him.
“He’s changed. It’s not Sam anymore,” Lucas warned.
“I can see that.”
He’d dealt with monsters in his day, only they’d all been human. This one, he wasn’t quite sure. The student, Sam, lunged at Chase. With strong but shaky arms, he made a grab for him. He dodged the blows, though he doubted they’d have stung. The kid seemed to be quick and strong, but not yet on his game of using his body parts. A full-grown toddler having a tantrum seemed an accurate description. As Sam straightened his spine, Chase punched him in the face. When Sam only staggered a few steps, he knew he had the strength part right. He’d knocked guys cold with just his right hook before. This kid had probably weighed one-fifty soaking wet.
Grabbing a chair like Lucas, he caught the boy with the legs.
“Lucas, do the same,” Chase yelled as he pushed against a still walking Sam.
Lucas jumped down. With two metal chairs, they basically imprisoned the groaning student. He was a hell of a fighter. He didn’t give up easily. They struggled to keep the chairs together. Sam raged in between the legs. His arms made repeated hits to the legs. His steps didn’t coincide with Lucas and Chase’s.
“Let’s get him out into the hall fast,” Chase commanded.
He’d fallen right back into military mode. By the time they reached the doorway, Chase was dripping sweat. As they maneuvered into the hall, Lucas cried out. He’d been thrown into the doorframe in the struggle.
“Keep your back to the door. On my count, stay steady. I’ll move beside you and then push him with the chair. When he falls down, drop your chair and run back into the lab. I’ll close the door,” Chase barked.
Before Chase could begin, he heard more of the same guttural sounds coming from the hall.
“Shit, sounds like more of them,” Chase grumbled. “Go!”
With quick steps he moved and pushed. This version of Sam stumbled, but didn’t fall.
“Move Lucas!” he yelled.
He didn’t wait for the kid to respond. He shoved him through the door. With a push, he moved from Lucas. He used all his weight to shut the door. His shaking hand turned the lock.
Having accomplished their goal, they stopped to catch their breath. Only a minute later, they heard bodies thump against the door. Chase looked to Lucas.
“This isn’t meningitis.”
Chapter Four
A collective thud, one brought about by a constant multitude of reoccurring hits that never ended on the door to the lab. From the sounds, the students out there
continued to walk into the door and wall, without stopping. The deranged moans created an eerie symphony.
“Do you think those students are dead?” Lucas asked, then gulped as he backed away from the noise slowly.
Chase followed as he tried to swallow over his own dry throat. The cold sweat covering his skin made him shiver. He turned to the door in thought. Shaking his head, he turned back to a rather ill-looking Lucas.
“Without testing, I can only guess. My brain wants to say that this is some final stage of the meningitis. The brain has stopped functioning to some degree. Only this virus causes extreme lethargy. You typically can’t wake meningitis patients up toward the end. When you do, with their headaches, like extreme migraines, they don’t even open their eyes,” Chase answered.
His hands had circled as he spoke, punctuating every point as if he tried to pull a meaning from the air.
“That’s what I thought. With meningitis, at least as we’ve always known it, they just sort of fade away into a permanent sleep as their bodies stop functioning,” Lucas spoke as he stared at the door.
“These kids, well seeing that Sam up close, his eyes were sickly. Dead. They didn’t focus on me. He seemed to respond more to sounds. Yet, if sick, how could he have had such fight in him? He was wobbly, sure, but strong as an ox.”
“He never would’ve been that strong in life. No offense,” Lucas laughed. Although the sound seemed strained.
“I’m sure he’s taken none. I thought the same thing given his size. And his skin,” a shudder paused Chase’s thoughts, “his skin looked like that of a corpse, that greyish coloring.”
“Let’s get back to the mice. I need something else to focus on.”
“Good idea. I need a distraction from the horrid sound.”
They both turned to the vibrating door a brief second before heading back to the mice. Lucas started in on more small tissue samples. Chase went to fluid samples. The familiar sounds of machines testing, glass clinking, and typing in results didn’t drown out the horde of violent beings at the door. Chase found he had to refocus his attention quite often. He’d caught Lucas looking at the door several times too. The boy kept clearing his throat.
Beyond Death: Origins, Book 1 Page 2
