Afflicted_Patient Zero_Book 1

by Derek Shupert

  The screaming and yelling Alice is doing distracts the rogue infected from his meal, his rotting and decaying head twisting around. He bolts to his feet and grabs the nurse, ripping its skin challenged head clean from its body with relative ease. A single thick stream of what looks like purple liquid shoots up from the nurse’s exposed neck. It releases Alice and falls to the side, motionless.

  The black haired woman, whose jaw is fully exposed and her left half-eaten breast is poking through her torn scrub, doesn’t pay any mind to what is happening, still fighting to get a taste of Alice’s supple skin. Alice screams, and struggles to escape its clutches any way she can, kicking her legs and swinging her arms in every direction.

  The wolf in sheep’s clothing, for the moment, appears to be helping out the living, ripping Alice away from her voracious attacker and pushing her to the side. It darts for the woman that is still focused on Alice, not paying any mind to me or anything else that is coming between its meal.

  With almost a brutal and primitive nature, the rogue infected sinks its jaw into the side of the woman’s face and clamps down, tearing a sheet of sagging and mangled flesh from her already decaying cheek.

  That must have snapped her out of her hunger induced state, turning her rapacious attention away from Alice to the man standing in front of her. Too bad she’s sluggish. Before she can get her deformed arms up to grab hold, the rogue infected reaches for her neck and snaps it. Her glazed over eyes and unyielding search for flesh ceases, and her mutated body falls limp to the ground as her head bobbles loosely on her shoulders.

  The rogue infected whips around and gazes upon Alice, its chest heaving hard and chunks of blood soaked skin mashed between its teeth. Instead of going after her and claiming its meal, it just stands there. I’m not sure why or what its motive is. I mean, it’s taken out the competition, momentarily that is. The murder of flesh-eaters are so close now that I can nearly see their discolored teeth.

  For a brief moment, I think Alice is frozen with fear or maybe uncertain what to do since this one is unlike any of the others. But that’s not it at all. She stares at it intently, as if trying to pierce the dead flesh and rotting skin to see the person within.

  “Trent . . . is that you?” Alice mutters, carefully getting to her feet and looking the creature in its cold, dark black eyes.

  Trent? I remember her calling me that when we first met. Is it her husband, brother, distant cousin or something? I’m not sure, but considering how she looked at me with those longing eyes that held some blip of hope, I would venture to say that he is someone important to her. In either case, I feel it’s a pipe dream that will soon blow up in her face.

  The moans and shrills from the approaching murder must have brought the rogue infected out of whatever was keeping it focused on Alice. It lunges forward, scoops Alice up by the waist, and tosses her over its shoulder. I can hear her breathing a little hard, panicking somewhat, but still keeping her composure as if she feels safe. She’s not even fighting to get free, slung over this creature’s shoulder like a rolled up rug. I don’t know how she can remain so calm and even feel secure in the arms of some dead man that has an apparent hunger for flesh, regardless if it’s living or not. At this point, she is on her own.

  It twists around and looks me dead in my fading eyes, blood trickling down from both corners of its crusty lips. With a snarl and a shrill of its own, it bolts in the opposite direction, Alice’s body bouncing up and down on its shoulder as they both fade into the blackness beyond. In my mind, I say goodbye to Alice, hoping that her death is swift and painless.

  I reach around to my back and probe the deep, meaty gash that has spilled so much of my blood. I feel like a gutted fish that has been thrown into shark infested waters to bring the masses to one central location.

  I lay my head back on the cold, wet cement floor, the army of cold-blooded killers passing by me while one of them stops and stands over me. I hope I pass on quickly, not wanting to be awake when my body is torn apart like a wounded animal.

  Breathing hard and something wet dripping from its mouth onto my face, the infected kneels next to my body. Its mutated hands poke and prod me all over as the herd of infecteds passes through and oddly enough, none of them is paying me any mind.

  I keep lying motionless, thinking for some reason it might treat me like a bear would—play dead and they just walk away. My eyes are clamped shut, mostly due to the fact that I can’t keep them open. I guess it’s out of pure morbid curiosity, but I want to see what’s going on. I want to see what the hell this thing is doing.

  I force my eyes open for a short second and nearly defecate myself, finding the infected right in front of my face. It looks into my eyes deep and hard as my vision becomes narrow, falling backwards into a tunnel of blackness that seems never ending. I take a couple short, deep breaths and pass out, it’s mangled and horrific face the last thing I see as I fade away.

  9

  I can’t move. My body is limp and responsive to any sort of command I give it, but my mind bounces all over, still firing on all cylinders. I have no idea how long I’ve been lying here on this cold, unforgiving floor. Seems like a damn eternity. The only body function that seems to be working is my hearing. It’s quiet, extremely quiet—except for the intermittent dripping of water hitting the ground.

  I try again to move something, anything. Open my eyes, smile, wiggle a toe, move a finger, but nothing. For all I know, those death dealers ravaged my body to the point of leaving nothing more than my severed head—tossed to the side like unwanted garbage. If that’s the case, why is my brain still functioning? Why haven’t I bled out yet like a stuck pig?

  At this point, I would say that my heart is racing and I feel as if I could hyperventilate, but I’d just be going through the motions of someone who is having a nervous breakdown in my head.

  All right, I need to calm my brain down. Stop thinking about what I can’t do and regain some sort of sense of self. Bombarding myself with all these questions and being scatterbrained isn’t going to do any good. It will just make matters worse.

  I stop with the interrogation on my brain and let it relax, my thoughts drifting around aimlessly, trying to focus on something that I can hold onto. I’m not thinking of anything in particular, but just letting that muscle flex and do its thing. I instantly feel calmer and at peace. Memories of my past play through my mind like a home movie spliced together randomly. The last time I drifted off and retreated back into my mind it was horrid and damn near broke my soul in half. Watching my sweet angel die in my arms from what I had done to her. I know it was a dream, a nightmare even, or was it?

  I shake the thought from my head while my brain keeps fast-forwarding through my past, zipping by memories that I hold dear. I can feel myself not worrying so much about the here and now. It’s a good feeling.

  But the joy that builds up inside me suddenly stops and confusion sets in. The replay of Mike’s Life takes a turn to a memory that seems really fuzzy. Like a dream where you remember it the next morning, but it’s fragmented so badly that it leaves you trying to figure out what the hell it was.

  I remember that day, well some of it anyways. The morning was great. The sun was shining and I had breakfast with Becky. I can still smell her famous eggs and waffles, smothered in butter and maple syrup, and the smell of a fresh pot of coffee flowing through the kitchen. The morning paper lays folded in half next to my plate. Looking back now, I wish I had made more time to spend with her, even if it is five more minutes. But all I did was wolf down the hearty meal, gulp down the black coffee, and jet out the door with no conversation to get my day going. At least I gave her a kiss, which always seemed to bring a smile to her face.

  I was starting a new job as a security guard for some pharmaceutical company. For some reason, the name is escaping me right now. Anyhow, I felt lucky, being out of work and a former military man, not too many jobs fit my work history of killing people for a living. This jo
b seemed like a God send. Good pay, good hours, good benefits. I felt as if I had hit the proverbial job lottery, especially considering how many people were still unemployed.

  The morning commute was rather quick and unobstructed, the freeway flowing uncongested as far as the eye could see. A sign of the times for sure.

  After listening to my favorite sports radio station for thirty minutes and wondering what the day had in store, I hit the front gate of my new job. No guard was in sight, just a single keypad that stood semi-concealed in the thick, green brush. Actually, from the street, you couldn’t see any of the building due to all the overgrown vegetation. Not sure if that was intentional or just part of nature.

  I typed my employee number in, 24556, and the thick steel gate sprang to life, quietly and quickly opening. My nerves were calm, but butterflies fluttered around inside and I wasn’t sure why. I mean, this was a security guard position. Nothing ever really happened anyway.

  My phone vibrated in my left pocket, distracting me momentarily as I drove through the gate and entered my new world. I dug it out and flipped it open, starring at the seemingly simple and plain building that only had about two dozen cars scattered about the massive parking lot. The message was a text from Becky.

  Hey baby, I just wanted to tell you to have a wonderful day at your new job. Call me on your lunch break and fill me in on the people you work with. Lol. Love you so much!! .

  I cracked a smile and closed my phone, spotting a sign that directed me to the rear of the building. The facility was fairly large and had a few windows sporadically placed in certain sections. Must have been for the big wigs to look down at us mere mortals. Foot traffic was null, even for a regular work day. I hoped I wasn’t late or anything.

  I made it to the back of the building where there were a handful of other vehicles and two semi trailers docked at a loading bay. I whipped into one of the empty spots and turned my car off. I sat there for a brief moment, gathering my nerves. After a minute or two of telling myself it was going to be a great day, I slid out and hit the ground.

  For some reason, things start to get hazy then. Up until that point, I can remember nearly everything that went on that morning, but as I near the entrance, everything becomes cloudy. The next thing I remember is I’m in a small room filling out paperwork. I have no idea who brought me there and what the hell I was even filling out. A small but subtle humming noise distracted me for a second, sending my eyes looking around. Guess it was the air conditioner or something.

  When I looked back, I was standing in what I’m guessing was the warehouse, talking with someone. He looks to be wearing the same type of uniform as me. His name badge is out of focus, but I can see some of his face. He looks just like Ray.

  His voice sounds drowned out as he talks to me, telling me I need to put on my name badge. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the badge, peering down as I pinned it to my uniform. I looked back up, and walked around some long aisles of nicely polished steel that were barren of any souls, but were loaded to the gills with containers. I checked my watch. It was 2:15 P.M.

  Did I even remember to call Becky on my lunch? Did I even go to lunch?

  I don’t remember being told and I’m not sure why, but I just know that I was supposed to be overseeing some shipment going out. I headed to the dock and approached one of the bay doors that were rolled up. Two men, dressed in black combat gear, turned and just stared at me. No words were spoken. They just stood there like they were waiting for something. I looked into the trailer and saw more of the massive, solid containers that were fixed on platforms throughout.

  I felt extremely light on my feet and my head was swimming in confusion. The two men kept their motionless pose as my equilibrium bounced all over the place. I looked around for someplace to sit down and gather myself, but fell like a drunken fool to the ground. Lights out.

  What seemed like seconds later, I cracked my heavy eyes open and found a bright ass light giving me the third degree in the face. I laid on my back on some sort of table or something. It was cold and smooth, sending chill bumps all over my body. I could faintly hear the low chatter of people talking around me. I could see the outlines of their bodies, but that was it. I tried to speak, but my tongue was lying dead inside my mouth as I slowly bobbled my dizzy head from side to side.

  Black. All I saw is blackness. My wrists and ankles felt like they were restrained with leather bands—the kind you’d see in a nut house.

  I moved my head around a little more and pulled up on the restraints. The stinging bite of something pointed and sharp plunged into the side of my temple. It hurt like hell and my brain instantly turned to mush. I yelled as loud as I could, but not a peep sneaked out. Just cold dead silence.

  Get that damn thing out of my head!

  I wake from my nightmarish state, panting like a dog in heat and sweat pours out of every pore as my back flips up and off the cool concrete floor. My heart pounds like a snare drum and I look all over for the assholes that were sticking me like a pin cushion.

  I’m alone, aside from the dead bodies lying around me. I reach my right hand to my back and feel for the gash that bled me good. It’s scared over and dried, crusty blood flaking off my skin.

  Why am I now remembering what happened that day? Maybe my brain is finally breaking down the walls that had been put up around that event. Event? Not sure if that is the right word for it. It seemed pretty f’ed up. Not something you hear about on the daily news.

  But it did bring some clarity to my present situation. Ray is the dead soldier lying next to me. It’s all connected somehow and yet I’m still so confused by it all. I wish I’d remember something, anything on where they brought us. Lab rats. That’s what I feel like I am now. Knowing that they injected me with something doesn’t make me feel any better either. There is something inside me, festering and changing me into God knows what. I need answers more than ever now.

  I get to my feet and look around, still paranoid from the relived episode that I just awoke from. Nothing stirs, not even the dead. Still as can be. It’s not surprising though; the murder of dead flowing through here earlier appears to be less interested in me and more interested in other things. A few curious flesh-munchers are to be expected, I guess. Glad that’s all it was. I have plans to get back to my Becky soon.

  I actually feel better. My eyesight is coming back, my strength is on the rise, and I don’t seem to be as worried about the dead walking around. Despite what I remember, every time I slip into a temporary coma state, I awake feeling much better than before. Hopefully, this is the last time that happens.

  With my new youthful vitality in check and my recent visions of past events shedding some light on my blurred memory, I take a knee next to the soldier’s body and fish out his wallet. I crack open the plain looking black leather wallet and find little to be desired. No money, no credit cards, and no identification.

  Shit!

  Undeterred, I check the rest of his chewed up body, going from pocket to pocket in search of something useful. Again, I come across nothing, but finally find some light at the proverbial end of the dark tunnel—an access card with three bold black letters imprinted in the upper right side.

  TGP

  The name doesn’t ring a bell, but then things from that day have slowly started to creep their way back inside my head. Maybe I’ll get another flashback of what the letters stand for and it will give me a better scope of things. Lord knows I need all the help I can get right now.

  I slip the card into my back pocket, figuring that eventually it should come in handy. I go out on a limb and rummage the other dead bodies, digging through their blood-soaked clothes. I check every pocket and any other possible places for some information, but come up empty. Hey, it was worth a shot, right?

  I get back up and stare down the hall that Alice and the grimacing, undead tore off into, wondering if she’s still alive or now a soulless demon preying on the flesh of the living. I als
o don’t see Deacon’s body, only a small puddle of blood that is streaked in the same direction. Looks like everyone split. Can’t say I blame ’em. This is one of those worst case scenarios, and I doubt they have a book on what to do when caught up in a infected infestation.

  I don’t know why I didn’t notice this earlier, but everything seems to have a light green hue about it. Like I’m wearing night vision goggles or something like that. The lights are still struggling to come on and there’s no natural light coming into this seemingly solid structure. Another possible side effect of the concoction they injected me with? If so, it should come in handy.

  Okay, so what to do now? Keep with my original plan and get to the security room and see if there is a way out of here, or do I dig deeper for what lies beneath this Frankenstein-ish experiment that has gone south?

  Screw it, I’ll have to do both. I know my Becky is probably wondering where I am, and if I’m coming back to her. She must be beside herself with grief, worrying about me. Those bastards. But wait, what if they told her I was dead, or some bull crap cover up story like that? If they sold it well enough, anyone might buy it. They would have to have some kind of contingency plan for when they snatch people up, wouldn’t they? Eventually, someone would notice.

  I feel my mind racing and losing control, rage settling deep inside me that boils to a point of a volcanic eruption. But I have to keep my composure together and think logically in this illogical experiment, if that’s what it really is.

  I finally calm myself down and center my brain after pacing back and forth among the dead bodies. Collected once more with clear vision of my goal, I get a better idea of where the dead are and find out what the hell is going on. I still have the schematic laid out in my brain. No more pacing, it’s time to get moving. When I find who did this to me, I’ll kill them all.