by Gayle Katz
Professor’s notes. There are bloody, black smudges all over most of the pages.
Chapter 14
________________________________________
The first page is just a flurry of notes. The Professor talks about the arguments he was having with the military about his research.
“The military detail visited today. They’re adamant about getting my research now that we’ve managed to cure the CEO of Scrycor. I don’t know if they meant it or not, but the head guy came within inches close to my face, invading my personal space. It felt like he was threatening me, but he didn’t come right out and say it. I got the message, though. They want me to work faster.”
I don’t get it. The Professor was such a hotshot who thought he was smarter than everyone else. Why would he let anyone push him around?
“I’m doing my best to meet their deadlines, but it wasn’t good enough. They decided to assign a few of their own researchers to help me move forward faster. Given their skill level and their lack of attention to detail, I’m hesitant to give them anything more than busy-work.
“I don’t know how many times I have to tell them – you can’t just tinker with people’s DNA. You need to do research. You not only have to find the right genes on the right chromosomes, but also find the right entry points to slice and splice properly. Without the proper planning, bad things can happen. They don’t want to listen. It’s like I’m talking to a wall.
“We have a new subject to test on, but it’s much too early to begin human trials.”
The next few pages talk about the actual cure, but it’s in science-speak so I don’t understand what I’m reading. A few more pages in, the Professor starts journaling about the spreading infection.
“We began his gene editing therapy where we thought it would make him stronger and more powerful. I knew we were venturing into uncharted territory and didn’t know what to expect. What we did could help him, do nothing at all, or cause harm – and I’m sorry to say that’s what it did. Even with all of the planning, we were so wrong. We wanted to help and only did the opposite. His body was getting stronger, but he started to devolve into… I’m not sure what. He began to lose the ability to speak. His face became pale. And he became violent. So violent that we had to strap him down. He’s also bleeding, but he’s not cut or injured. I don’t know what’s happening.”
Included with his notes is a short letter from Scrycor pulling his funding and requesting all of his research and notes.
“Dear Professor Benjamin Carter,
This letter serves as the official notice of termination of your research grant.
While we do not require you to pay back any of the support we’ve issued, you must turn over your equipment, notes, and research no later than the end of the month.”
The letter goes on stating legal mumbo jumbo about docking his pay, losing his tenure, and other threatening actions that might ensue should he not follow instructions, but the Professor doesn’t seem to pay any attention to their bluster, at least according to his notes.
“I don’t care if Scrycor isn’t supporting me anymore. What’s most important is that I help this young man reclaim his life. I’m the reason he’s like this and I alone have to fix it. And no one, not even the Fixers at Scrycor, are going to stop me.”
By this point, his handwriting is starting to get messy. I guess he’s stressed, knowing that someone’s life is depending solely upon him.
“Things aren’t going well. I concocted a serum that might help, but before I could inject him, he bit me. He really took a chunk out of me. I was bleeding everywhere. And I saw him with my flesh in his mouth. I was frightened, stunned! I finally managed to take control and introduced the serum into his bloodstream. He seems to be getting better. And now I have to create another dose for myself.”
“I made another dose, but my hands were shaking the entire time. I’m also having trouble focusing. It’s like I’m in a fog. Not a good feeling, but I have to fight through it. After injecting myself with the serum, things got a little better. Not much, though.”
Oh my. As I’m reading through his notes, his already sloppy handwriting is becoming even more erratic. It looks like as he’s writing, he can’t keep his body steady, thus the difficult-to-read, oddly pointed letters.
“Out of nowhere, I’m bleeding, too. I might not be able to continue these logs. My hands are shaking again and I’m bleeding all over my papers. I can’t seem to staunch the wounds, either. I tried stopping the injections and the bleeding stopped, but then something worse started to happen. I began hearing voices and my body seemed to move on its own. I didn’t want to lose complete control of my mind and my body so I was forced to take another dose. What I’ve created is far from a cure – it’s maybe a temporary inoculant, but the side effects are almost as bad as the virus. What have I done?”
There’s more written in his log, but his handwriting is too frantic and I can’t make out any of the words. I guess that he was trying to convey his thoughts, but the scribble and the large smudges in front of me show that he was having major trouble communicating. The infection might have already spread to his brain at this point.
Also in the folder are emails from Scrycor distancing themselves from the Professor, as well as from the entire university after the infection began to spread. Reading more of the emails, they were the ones who recommended destroying the school after no viable cure was found, probably to get rid of any evidence tying them to the outbreak.
I guess Brie or someone else managed to ransack the Professor’s office after he was killed, but before the bombs dropped, to steal his research.
Chapter 15
________________________________________
I hear a metal click and a door creak. I stand up to figure out what going on. “Hello? Who’s there?” My eyes widen. What’s going on? I look around and don’t see anything out of the ordinary, except the zombies stumbling around, of course. The lighting in the room is dim, but I can see their shadows lurking about, accompanied by their horrible sounds.
“Help me…” a man’s voice weakly groans.
Startled by the request, I reply, “Where are you?” With all of the other noise in the room, I can’t tell where the voice is coming from. I’m looking around, but not seeing anyone.
“In the corner cage, please help me…”
I turn to the cage door and notice that the latch is no longer secure. That’s strange. Who opened it? I didn’t see anyone, although I was nose-deep in the Professor’s folder. It’s probably a trap, but I can’t ignore someone asking for help.
More hideous noises freeze me in place. My terrified heart jumps into my throat. Fear can’t stop me, though – I’m better than that. I have to be useful. This person needs my assistance, and I’m going to help him. Cautiously walking over to my cage door, I push it open slowly with a creak. I hold my breath, hoping that none of the monsters notice me. I sneak out, sprint down the walkway, make a left, and see a man slumped in the corner of his cell.
“Was that you? Do you need help?”
“Yes, please.”
I hear footsteps behind me, turn around, and see the zombies rushing our way. I open his door, enter, and slam it closed behind me to prevent any stray zombies from entering. I stare at them as they try to shove their heads and limbs through the bars. Looking away from the monster movie in front of me, I turn my head to face the man on the floor. “What’s wrong? What can I do?” I move closer to him.
“Something bit me.” He shows me the still-red and bloodied bite mark on the fleshy part of his upper thigh. “And I feel funny. I’m hearing crazy voices and when I look around no one is there. I fear I’m losing control. I’m beginning to think these voices are in my head.”
“Try to focus on my words instead, all right?”
“A-And no one has come to help me, except for you, of course. Look at my hands, they’re shaking. I can’t stop them.”
Wrapping my hands around his to ste
ady them, they stop shaking momentarily. “How’s this?”
“Better.”
I smile to reassure him everything is going to be fine, even though deep down inside, I know it isn’t. What else can I possibly do?
“You’re not afraid of me?”
“No, why would I be afraid of you?”
“Because I’m changing, probably turning into one of those monsters over there,” he raises his limp arm and points to the zombies stumbling around in the room. Some of them are attracted to us and are screeching through the bars. Their arms are reaching out to grab us, unsuccessfully for now. “I’m trying to fight it, but…”
“But it’s nearly impossible, I know.”
“You know? But you seem fine to me.”
“I am now, well, for the most part, but I was infected the first time years ago. It was horrible,” I explain, showing off my original bite mark scar.
He looks at the scar and then he reaches out to touch the newest markings on my body. “What happened here and here? You have more bites.”
I pause, taking in his words, fighting back my tears. “T-They… uh… they’re using me as a test subject, a lab rat, really.” A nervous laugh escapes my lips. “They threw me in with a bunch of those things,” I say, pointing to the undead creatures desperate to get to us. “It was… ummm… probably the worst thing I’ve ever experienced in my life,” I choke out.
“I’m sorry you had to endure that.”
“Me too, but I can’t focus on that, right? I-We need to get out of here.”
“I won’t be able to go with you. The sickness is inside of me already. Consuming me. And I’d only slow you down. And that’s the last thing you need, a dead weight, that might turn into a full-fledged zombie.”
“No. No. No. You can’t think like that. You have to fight it. I know the compulsion to give into the darkness and feed is overwhelming. At least, it was for me, but you can survive. It’s possible.”
“How did you make it through?”
“My husband – boyfriend at the time – got me through it. He talked to me about our life together and helped me remember all of the great things that I needed to live for. That’s what I can do for you.”
“That seems like a lot of trouble.”
“Not at all. It’s my pleasure. Tell me about yourself. Ummm… what’s your name?”
“Tahir.”
“Nice to meet you, Tahir. My name is Jane.”
“Nice meeting you, too.”
“Do you have a family?”
“M-My wife, Saffiyah. I love her, but she’s dead.”
“I’m so sorry,” I look down at the floor, “but I know she would want you to live. She loved you, right? The last thing she would have wanted is for you to die.”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t give up hope, at least not yet, OK? You can beat this thing. You totally can. I did and I know you can, too.” I look around and see his old plate of uneaten food and a couple bottles of water. “When was the last time you ate?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Well, you have to eat and drink. Drinking lots of liquids is key to staving off the infection.” I grab one of his bottles of water, twist off the cap, and hand him the bottle. “Will you be able to hold the bottle, or should I help?”
“I’m gonna need your help. Without your hands to steady mine, I’ll probably just drop it.”
“We’ll do it together.” I smile again to be comforting.
Together we bring the bottle to his mouth and tip it over a little bit so he can drink some of the water. As he drinks, we tip it over more and more. I might have tipped it over a bit too much, when he coughs some of the water up.
“Sorry! I’m sorry!”
“It’s OK. I know you’re trying to help,” he says as he wipes the liquid from his chin.
“Why don’t you eat something?” I lean over, grab his tray of food, and put it on his lap. I pick up the spoon, scoop some of the food into it, and bring it to his mouth. He opens wide, takes the food, and starts to chew.
“Thank you,” he says while he’s eating. He holds up his hands and they’ve stopped shaking. “I guess I was just hungry.”
“That’s a step in the right direction at least. Listen, have they given you the serum they’re developing?”
“To be honest, I’m not sure. I’ve been poked and prodded so many times. At some point, I lost track of what they were taking out of my body and putting back in.”
“I can relate to that. How long have you been here?”
“Again, it’s been a while.”
“Hmmm. Drink some more, won’t you?” I say, as I hand him the opened bottle of water.
“Thanks.”
“No problem. I have to ask, have you tried to escape from this place?”
“Once. A while back I tried. When I had my strength, I knocked one of those thugs on his butt, didn’t know what hit him, but two others tackled me as I tried to make it to the exit. Now that they’ve moved us, I haven’t been out of my cell yet. I don’t know this new place. And if I were to break out and actually escape, I don’t know where we are. I don’t know where I’d go.”
“That shouldn’t matter. Anywhere you go can’t possibly be worse than being trapped in here.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. There are some corrupt people in this world who are worse than even the most depraved zombie. People who’ll cut you to pieces and gnaw on your flesh until they hit bone. You don’t want to find yourself in their company.”
“Let’s focus on something more uplifting, all right? Can you tell me about your wife, Saffiya?”
“Ah! Yes! Just thinking about her brings a smile to my face. She was beautiful. Black hair, dark brown eyes, always smiling. When I first saw her, I instantly fell in love. I pursued her and after some coaxing, she agreed to go to dinner with me. I couldn’t believe it!”
“She sounds like a wonderful woman.”
“She was, until the government unleashed a massive wave of zombies into our village. We had no notice. No time to escape. We grabbed our guns and weapons and ran upstairs into the bathroom. We did our best to defend ourselves, but it wasn’t enough. We tried to access the attic, but they broke down the door. One of those things bit her. I smashed its head open, but it was too late. The damage had been done. We panicked and didn’t know what to do.
“The only place for us to go was into the bathtub. Our only hope of survival was the reinforced plexiglass shower door. I jumped in, but my wife didn’t follow. She chose to remain with them. Touching the glass door, her last words were, ‘Tahir, I love you.’ Saying I was devastated doesn’t even begin to describe how I felt not being able to save her. Seconds later, my wife was gone and in her place was… was… I don’t know. I don’t know what got into her. She started jerking her head around and making horrible noises. As she turned into one of them, she started to smash her head against the plexiglass. Not once, but again and again until her head was a bloody mess. Her hair came off in patches and stuck to the bloody marks on the door. She wouldn’t stop. Part of her skull cracked off and I could see her brain. Something evil killed my wife and took over her body. And all I know is that she wasn’t my wife anymore. My wife,” he chokes out, “was dead.”
“I’m so sorry,” I try to console him. “That must have been devastating.”
“It was.”
“Do you remember how you got from there to here?”
“Yes and no. I knew she wouldn’t want to live like that. So I took a large breath, pulled out my gun, slid open the door, and opened fire on all of them. I spared nothing and no one. Body parts were falling everywhere and, when I ran out of bullets in the clip, I closed the door, reloaded and went for it again. After a while, the stream of zombies stopped. When I believed I was safe, I thought I could get out of the house and get help. I stepped out of the bathroom and went downstairs. But before I left the house, I opened our ammo closet and emptied the rest of our bullets into my bag. Tha
t’s when one of those zombies, crawling on the floor, took a chunk outta my leg. As payback, I shot him in the head and blew his brains out. Seconds later, as I was stumbling out of the house, help arrived in the form of a beat-up police car. They said they would fix me up. And now I’m here with you.”
“And you don’t remember anything after they said they would help you?”
“Like I said, just lots of needles. Great story, huh?”
“Disturbing is more like it.”
“Yeah,” he feigns a laugh, but then grabs his stomach. “Ow,” he winces.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s my stomach. Something must not agree with me.” He doubles over in pain, vomiting all over.
I immediately stand up and yell at the top of my lungs, “Someone help us! Can anyone hear me? Please help!” I turn back around and see Tahir freaking out, his body twitching as his speech takes on a stutter. I stoop down to him on the floor.
“Stay with me, all right?” I plead, as I take his hand in mine. I look at his thigh again and the bite wound is getting worse. It’s all discolored, veiny, and quickly spreading to other parts of his leg.
Breathing heavily, he grabs my hands. “T-Thank you for helping me. I-I think you s-s-should go now.”
“No. No. No. You have to fight it, Tahir! You can’t let the sickness win. Fight it! Focus on me.” I lift his head up with my hands. He’s staring at me when I see his complexion go pale. “Oh no.” I grab his hands to reassure him, but they go cold, like ice. I let go of his hands, stand up, and slowly back away from him. I watch as he stands up tall in front of me. His jaw is making that familiar clicking sound. Other horrible retching and screeching sounds are coming from him too as he stumbles toward me. I back up further when one of the zombies outside the cage grabs me.
“Ahhh! Get off of me!” I shout out as I push his hand off of me. If I stay, undead Tahir is going to get me. If I leave, the zombies who are waiting for me around the perimeter of the cage will get me.
