Afflicted_Patient Zero_Book 1

by Derek Shupert

  I wish I knew what they were pumping into him.

  What they injected into me.

  I’ve been poked and prodded so many times, there’s no telling what’s cultivating inside me. I feel like a walking petri dish, teaming with all sorts of manmade viruses that spawn ungodly results.

  I open my eyes and find the man starring at me or maybe through me. It startles me, sending me backwards and my heart fleeing like a fucking race horse. He seems lethargic, his eyelids hanging heavy just above his dilated pupils, and a grim look of confusion and outright disorientation filling his ghostly face.

  I move in closer once more, my eyes peering deep into his as if I feel that I know what he is going through being stuck like a damn lab rat with no way of getting out.

  His eyes excitedly explode open all the way. The realization of his current situation must have hit him. The catatonic state he was in is now gone and I can tell he sees me, his eyes screaming for help and his lips trying to split apart. His motionless body comes back to life and thrashes around, jerking his arms and legs in a panic. I wish I could do something for him, but he is unfortunately screwed at the moment.

  The light inside the pod shifts from the piss yellow color to a dark dank red that is followed by a siren and a damn flashing light from atop the steel container.

  “Shut the hell up, and stop moving around, damn it!” I say at the glass, forgetting that this fool can’t hear me. Even if he could, I doubt he would comprehend what I am saying.

  Sorry guy, got to go.

  I turn to the left and head for the corner of the pod when one of those TGP soldiers surprises the shit out of me and trains his machine gun at my head. I throw my hands up and stop cold in my tracks, his gun mounted light glaring in my face.

  “Don’t move!” the solider sternly says, his voice sounding more robotic than human.

  “Let’s take it easy, shall we,” I say calm and cool.

  I hope this asshole doesn’t have a happy trigger finger.

  “Remove the gun from your shoulder and any other weapons you have on your person now!”

  I do as he says and reach for the machine gun over my shoulder. I grab the black strap and start to remove it when I see something scurrying around in the blackness behind him. It’s faint and barely visible as his light chops my vision into ground crap. I train my ears and hear whatever it is breathing deeply, creeping closer along the steel pods outer hull. I doubt it’s friendly and really don’t care to see if it wants to tussle with me.

  I wonder if it wants a snack.

  I see the thing’s face emerge from the blackness, completely deformed and most of its skin shred to shit. Its lips are void and gone, showing overdeveloped gums that have massive knife-like teeth gleaming in what little light there is in here.

  “Um . . . you might want to-”

  “Shut the hell up, and don’t speak again or I’ll-”

  The creature erupts out of the space and grabs the soldier from behind, hopping on his back and driving its teeth straight into the side of his neck. The padding, armor, or whatever they’re wearing might as well be tissue, as it tears right through and hits his neck.

  “Awwwwww,” he yells, his finger clamping down on the trigger and spraying anything and everything.

  Bullets wiz past my body and strike the pods around me. Steam or something vents from the holes as more sirens scream their heads off. I run towards the soldier and kick him hard in the chest, sending both of them reeling backwards into the abyss of blackness. The muffled robotic pleas quickly die off. The sound of the creature ripping through his suit to the meaty goodness within fills my ears.

  I stand there, almost in a trance, watching the thing claw its way to his insides. It’s horrific and something you would see on Discovery or Nat Geo. Every slash of its razor sharp claws brings so much more blood flowing like a river from his body and pooling around both of them.

  I can hear the other soldiers coming, the rapping of their feet and the heft of their suits shifting about as they hurry towards the commotion.

  It pauses and tilts its head to the side, fresh human meat clutched in its paws and shredded flesh jammed between its teeth. Its dead eyes, black as oil, lock onto mine. It’s not acting like it wants to do anything, it’s more like a curious stare.

  “Echo three . . . fox trot, what’s . . . status, over!” I hear the faint, and choppy transmission sound from the dead TGP soldier’s mangled helmet, noticing the swirling and bouncing lights trailing along the floor and containers out of the corner of my eye. I look to the side and see a handful of the soldiers making a mad dash, weapons shouldered and trained straight ahead.

  I look back and find the creature’s head pointed to the ceiling, the dark tinted blood dripping from its chin as it opens its mouth and releases a short burst of shrills that echo inside my skull.

  I don’t speak infected, but the shrill resounds inside my skull, banging around and striking a certain cord once again that makes it feel familiar, natural. I know it’s not good, as it’s signaling or communicating with the others. Ringing the dinner bell and/or signaling for reinforcements.

  It stops and gets back to its meal, digging and tearing without regard for my presence anymore. Immediately, I pick up the faint, but growing, rattling sound coming from the vent I passed through just a little bit ago. Its intensity is fierce and growing near fast, the vibration sounding as if a herd of cattle will come busting through at any moment.

  Time to leave!

  I turn to leave and take a couple of steps to the open space, where my fucked friend is, when I feel something hard and blunt strike me in the arm, knocking me off balance and throwing me against one of the steel pods.

  I hear the soldiers as if they are on top of me, shouting orders to spread out and contain whatever is in the warehouse. Use of lethal force is authorized if need be.

  I pay no mind to the wound and reach behind me, grabbing my Glock with one fluid motion and firing with extreme accuracy. I hit the middle soldier of the group of three barreling right at me right in his visor, stopping his ass cold and crumpling him like a sack of rotten potatoes. At this point, I am clueless how many of the soldier are weaving between the pods.

  So much for getting to the other side unnoticed.

  The other two soldiers break away from their fallen brother and take cover behind the pods, firing a couple of rounds and ducking back. I can hear more chatter and footsteps all over, but can’t place where or how many are exactly converging on me.

  I fire repeatedly, swiveling my good arm from side to side, containing the two soldiers. My Glock clicks empty.

  Shit!

  I eject the worthless clip and reach back with my wounded arm, the pain intense, but my brain overriding the sensation and pushing on with my command. I grab a fresh clip and slap it in, taking aim in the soldiers’ direction. The shrills multiply and a flood of dead bodies explode out of the vent.

  Guess I’m not the biggest threat now.

  The soldiers quickly forget about me and train on the small swarm of mutated dead jumping from the vent and spreading out into the warehouse like a tidal wave of teeth and utter rage.

  Gunfire erupts and screams of agony and being scared shitless fill the air. I can smell the dead and the blood that is being spilled. It fills my nose and churns my stomach. I guess it’s a good thing it doesn’t entice me to partake. At least now, I’m still more human than undead.

  I go the other way, fleeing the madness. I get tripped up and fall face first, turning over onto my back and finding a freshly mutated woman lunging towards me. She’s still somewhat human looking, but her body and face show rapid signs of the change.

  I throw my legs back towards me and cradle her body with my feet, her dark pits for eyes burning a hole through my head while her ravaged fingers reach and strive for me. Spit and other fluids drip from her torn and split lips, grunts and other unnatural noises emitting from her mouth as her leg
s drive her towards me.

  Not today, bitch!

  I train the Glock right between her black eyes and chamber off a single round, the splat of the bullet cratering a hole in her head and blowing out the back of her skull, melding with the screams and shrills.

  With the woman lifeless once more, I throw her off me and scramble to my feet. I back up to the steel pod of my screwed friend and check the way.

  All clear, so far.

  I close my eyes for a brief second and pull up the maze of pods that seems to be filled with human test subjects. I’m not sure why I’m bothering with trying to outline a path to my exit, as things are completely chaotic now.

  Fuck it!

  I roll out from my cover and keep the Glock trained straight ahead, killing two undead walkers right away as the pinging sound of the soldiers’ bullets ricochet off the steel around me. But I don’t stop. I keep running, darting in and out of the maze like I know where the hell I’m going.

  It is pure madness in here now—blood bath would be putting it nicely. Stepping over bodies of both the dead, I nearly lose my balance multiple times.

  My Glock clicks empty once more as I take down two more TGP soldiers rounding opposite corners ahead of me. I holster it behind me and swing around the machine gun I lifted from the dead soldier earlier, continuously squeezing the trigger and taking out a mixture of soldiers and dead.

  I hear their moans and cries for fresh meat behind me. I peer back over my shoulder and spot three fast-moving infecteds galloping towards me like a small group of fucking race dogs. I didn’t know they could do that.

  I run, bobbing and weaving among the steel pods, hoping the dead trailing me find a better meal and break off. But no dice. My ass must look super tasty from behind, as the drool oozing out of their mouths is constant and not very uplifting. I also notice a slew of dead soldiers that will probably be turning sometime in the near future, which will add to the already abundant dead meat roaming around in hell.

  16

  I take a couple more side steps and avoid being shot to shit when I notice my way out. Up ahead and through a bright gauntlet, which steals my night vision. There’s a man with wiry black hair and dressed in a dingy white lab coat franticly hitting the lone button on the wall. He doesn’t look like all that much and appears as though he couldn’t fend off his own shadow, much less a horde of flesh-eaters. Makes me wonder how in the world he has survived this long.

  I keep pace and sprint forward, the three followers blasting me with their eyes. That elevator door needs to hurry the hell up.

  The man looks back over his shoulder and spots me making a beeline right towards him, the now frantic look escalating to an expression of shitting his pants. The elevator dings and the door springs open, the white lab coat rushing inside and smacking the button repeatedly as he looks me dead in the eyes.

  You better hold that elevator or you’ll find being eaten alive is the lesser of two evils, pal!

  Then again, he’s just trying to survive. Don’t trust anyone, like I was. Like I still am. If I make it inside the elevator, his chances of me killing him now are pretty good. Just saying.

  The dread ding of the elevator rings in my ears and the doors start to close as I make a mad dash for my only way out. Man, it’s going to be close, but I think I can make it. Good thing I haven’t eaten anything in a while.

  I keep going all out, the white lab coat screaming at me and moving off the side. The doors are nearly shut as I barely slip through and hit the interior wall hard. The shrills and lip smacking of the dead trio trailing me fades off as they run into the door full throttle, shaking the inside cab.

  “Please don’t kill me. Christ, don’t kill me,” the man screams and sobs as he wedges himself into the corner of the elevator, tears flowing down his red cheeks and through in his sparse black beard.

  “Shut up, I’m not going to kill you. At least not if you stop that damn whining,” I say, picking myself up off the elevator floor.

  I work the pack off my back and toss it to the side. I hit the red emergency button on the elevator control panel, instantly stopping the carriage.

  “Wha . . . what are you going to do to me?” the man stutters.

  Lord, I might kill him ’cause he’s getting on my nerves.

  I pull my Glock out from behind me and sit down opposite whiny ass, resting my back against the solid wall of the elevator. My head tilts back as I take a deep breath, the gun hanging loosely in my right hand. Just from his timid body language and the fact his eyes are watching the gun like a hawk, he wants no part of it. That’s good, as it’s not loaded. Guess I’m selling it well enough then.

  “So, what’s your name?”

  “Wal . . . ter Jenkins.”

  “Well Walter Jenkins, I’m Mike.”

  No way!

  That name, Walter Jenkins, triggers a memory almost on cue after he blubbers it out. It’s hazy and sorta out of focus, but I can see a name badge with the engraving W Jenkins. Is this divine intervention or am I just that lucky? Either way, I’ll take it. I can’t tell if my epiphany has alerted him, but I need to see what I can get out of him.

  “You’re not going to eat me, are you?” Walter asks, peering at my face with a look of fear.

  “No Walter, I’m not going to eat you, but I am going to ask you some questions. And depending on how, let’s say truthful, you answer them, I may feel a little . . . snackish. We clear?”

  Walter nods his head, his eyes staying ever vigilant on my every move. Not that it would matter much. At any point and time, if I feel so inclined, I could kill him without much pause or struggle. Plus, he doesn’t look like the fighting type.

  “Good, now stop your damn crying and be quiet. It’s wearing on my nerves.”

  Walter stops, his arms folded across his chest and his teeth going to town on his nasty looking fingernails. No telling what’s caked under those things.

  “Tell me, Walter, what exactly is going on here? From the looks of this structure, and the dead walking around, it doesn’t appear to be your run of the mill warehouse or laboratory. Then again, I’m just assuming.”

  “I can’t really say because I don’t much know either,” Walter replies, his eyes staring away from my black irises. “Myself and a handful of others are just a small piece to a much larger puzzle. They direct us on what our job is and that is all. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  “Who is ‘they’ exactly?”

  “Some pharmaceutical company I was contracted through. I never really met anyone face to face. I was contacted over the phone and offered the job. I was told they had been watching me for some time and that they had a top secret project they wanted me on.”

  “Didn’t you find that just a little odd?”

  “I did until they told me what it paid. I’ve got an ex-wife that is bleeding me dry, and loans that are nearly drowning me. I’m on the verge of losing everything. At the time, I really didn’t care.”

  “So you have no clue as to why those things out there are roaming around and why I look like ground shit!”

  “I’ve already said I don’t know what’s going on,” Walter replies, digging deep to find his balls. “I’ve almost gotten bit I don’t know how many times and have seen stuff that will scare the hell out of me for the rest of life.”

  You may be convincing yourself that you don’t know anything, but I think you know a lot more than what you’re letting on, Walter.

  I get off the ground in a huff, my “loaded” Glock gripped tightly in my hand as I lick my dried and crusty lips. Added effect. Instantly, that pair of nuts Walter discovered sucks back up into his mangina, his body tensing for a beating.

  “You don’t know shit about nightmares, pal. LOOK AT ME!” Walter tilts his shaking head towards me, his fearful eyes trying not to look at me, but he does. “Do I look like I can take a stroll in the park without people freaking out? No, I can’t, Walter! All because of something that ha
ppened here. Because of something YOU helped with.”

  And there it is again. That expression on Walter’s face that shows that he has been found out. Found out by someone who he thought he would never see again. Well, maybe not alive anyways.

  “Last time I’m going to ask you . . .” I say, placing the Glock flush in the middle of Walter’s forehead, the barrel nesting against his sweaty, slimy skin. “Tell me EVERYTHING you know right now or I’ll relieve you of your current nightmares!”

  “All right fine, just put the damn gun down!” Walter yells, his hands in the air.

  Smart man.

  I pull the Glock away slowly and slip it behind me. I take a couple of steps back to give him some breathing room and lean against the interior wall. “Go on.”

  “I hate guns. They always set me on edge.”

  I couldn’t tell.

  “Walter, focus,” I say bluntly.

  “Yeah, so okay. So, I’ve seen you once before. The group I was with was injecting the stabilizer into test subjects before they were moved onto the next phase of testing. The stabilizer was to control the substance and keep it from getting out of hand. The last phase, from what I’ve heard, is the activation of the substance. A catalyst is administered to the subject and then they are set free if they don’t spaz out and turn immediately.”

  “What is the substance?”

  “I don’t know what it is. I wasn’t part of that group and it wasn’t something they shared with me. All I know is what I was working with. That is all. I swear,” Walter says in what I can tell is a genuine tone.

  He could be lying or not telling me the entire story, but I don’t have time for twenty questions. I’ve got a lot more than what I had ten minutes ago.

  “Are you going to kill me now?”

  “No, I’m not killing you. Although, you’re a piece of shit and will probably die down here, but that is just a hunch.”