Alan Dale - Death Nation's Army 01

by Dna Code Flesh

  “The revolution grows underneath,” Draco began. “Their unrest is predictable. Their chances for success? Minimal?”

  “Regardless, did we really have to execute millions of workers,” Mohammed asked as she flipped her long, wavy, brown hair behind her shoulders. “That gave them rise, Draco.”

  “What would you have suggested, ma’am?” Draco turned his stunning eyes on her and her posture went rigid, protective. “We let them go home…go home to a revolution…with intimate knowledge of our world…where would that have left us? They could provide every possible plan to our Utopias that the revolution would be bolstered by this knowledge. Thus, we had to preserve our fortress and secrecy by silencing those who would benefit from sharing.”

  He watched as Mohammed took a moment to take this in and nodded.

  “It was a wise decision,” Ruland barked as he thrust out his massive chest and raised his chin in the air. He finished second to Fortellis in the voting for the NWO’s top government position and still liked to throw his weight around. “We get rid of more riff raff, but, we need to know what to do if this pesky distraction becomes a reality.”

  “We, Ruland?”

  “Then who?” Jarius asked.

  Drako turned to the Moscow representative.

  “Why…you are looking at the solution,” Draco tapped his head. “It’s all been in here since the day we knew this would happen.”

  The table’s occupants turned and shared quick glances with one another, quizzical expressions, shrugs, and a vacant look of questioning the norm.

  Sighing, Draco stood up slowly and remained behind his chair.

  “Let me explain,” he began. “We won’t wrestle with semantics. I will get to the immediate point and make this quick and clear as possible. I would prefer we all go to our homes and enjoy our new worlds immediately.”

  He stopped, waiting for the rest of the group to relax a bit, settle in and prepare for him to continue.

  He watched Jarius wave him on as if signaling for the other officials they were ready to hear what was soon to come.

  “Ever since we started all of our testing on the world’s death row and life sentenced inmates we have always planned for the potential threat to our welfare,” he began to slowly move around the table, stopping behind each of his guests for a beat or two before moving on. “We knew logically, we couldn’t do the testing on these men and women and expect to get the returns we wanted. We knew the test subjects would die almost immediately. So as we discussed, we created…the cocktail.”

  Draco watched as the various expressions on the other nine members’ faces shifted into different looks of reflection. It was shortly before the announcement of the scientific testing on these inmates that the Utopias chief resident medical researchers began working on the ultimate human anatomical reinforce. Think, human growth hormone meeting up with a Marvel Comic idea. They would eventually create the greatest serum to use on a human body combining complex proteins, vitamins, steroids, HGH, carbohydrates, and reptilian DNA, to create what the Order would call…

  The cocktail.

  Proteins would be used to create strength, vitamins helped build the immune system and aid recovery, steroids obviously found a way to build the body back from injury or trauma, carbs provided the test subject with energy, HGH installed a response for needed regeneration, and the DNA came from lizards that could grow back some of its limbs.

  This was the Order’s way to keep infecting the prisoners with some of the worst diseases and cancers on the planet, enough to die immediately, and allow them to recover.

  So, instead of just one use and then disposing of a body, the NWO researches could conduct their laboratory, genetic gymnastics, without rushing for results. Having a subject last a week or two at a time compared to one day and buried, gave Draco the extra time it needed to come up with a way to “save the people.”

  The only difference was, while the people of the world thought this new approach to medicinal research was being used to save millions from horrible illness they didn’t know the only people the NWO cared about were the ones Utopian-bound.

  They also didn’t know what the true reason for the tests was.

  “We needed to buy time so we could come up with the perfect masked biological killer,” Draco continued. “We needed to engineer a bug that would be released shortly after the creation of the Utopias. We had to come up with a disease that would become a part of the new world. It would be more of a result of the people dying due to current living conditions and not by the fact we, ourselves, unleashed it upon them.”

  Dead silence met his final words. None of them predicted this was the original intention of the prisoner test programs. The commentary shocked them and he knew it, but none of them could feign total ignorance.

  “Do not act like you care about the people now,” he patronized them, voice rising. “The only difference is…instead of setting them out to die slow, uneventful, miserable lives…they can go away, much quicker, albeit, potentially much more painfully.”

  Draco grinned.

  “But, what about the Utopias?” Goldstien asked, wiping the rising sweat from his brow. “How would they stay safe from these diseases?”

  Draco moved toward Goldstein’s section of the table.

  “We all know we are all situated quite a distance from the general populace. Correct?”

  Draco watched the individuals slowly nod their heads.

  “So that in itself will eliminate about 95 percent probability of infection,” Draco went on.

  “The other five?” Jarius asked.

  Draco smiled again, eyes gleaming.

  “Well, that’s where our border military guard gets puts to use,” Draco raised his right hand and curled it into the shape of pistol. He mimicked a firing of a gun.

  “Bang. We shoot them dead before they get near,” he eyed the group, giving anyone a chance to speak. No one did. “Problem solved.”

  Draco found his way back to his chair and sat down once again. The tone shifted. The man’s plan brought a pall over proceedings. These leaders of the world’s elite couldn’t fool themselves. They all wanted the world, the playground, all to themselves.

  Just none of them had the nerve to pull the switch.

  But, Draco did.

  “The cocktail bought us time to find the bug,” Draco went on. “In the meantime we have mechanical engineers building large, jet propulsion, air filters and jets. These air apparatuses will be placed at all four points of each Utopia. Each will be the size of a football field turned on its side. These will then push the vaccine into the air and out from our homes into the environment. It will kill any lingering threat within five miles radius. We would put a hold on all travel for 30 days to ensure the bug’s incubation is completely manifested and allow all life outside of our world…

  “To die.”

  It seemed like hours, but it was only minutes where the group sat in silence. Draco was satisfied with his explanation of how to keep the potential revolution at bay.

  “Um, so when do you plan on setting this in motion?” Candice Hemmerlee asked, clearing her throat, her eyes pointed toward her lap. “Before or after a revolution starts?”

  Draco looked over the American and grinned. He always liked Candice and hoped she’d stay a few more days.

  “Well we hear the revolutionists are gearing up to get things going in the next six months,” Draco began to answer her.

  “And, um, where, do you stand on…,” Ruland fumbled on his words. “Th-the bug?”

  Draco watched the large man, his closest challenger to his current throne, and the seat that put his hand on the proverbial button which would ultimately reboot the world as we knew it.

  “Ah, Aaron,” Draco tented his fingers. “We are very, very close.”

  It may have been his imagination but the temperature began to rise almost immediately. He knew he had sprung into motion the final stage to getting these nine other people and their consti
tuents in ten Utopias around the globe, the whole world in their hands.

  “You are evil, Draco,” Hemmerlee whispered and he turned to see her closest eye peering at him from below her perfectly cut bangs.

  She may not be wanting to stay after, but in the end, Draco couldn’t care.

  “My dear,” Draco said slowly. “What does that say for the people who put me here?”

  It hadn’t been by coincidence the NWO placed Test Zone Zero in Australia. Considering the heart of the revolutionary movement was being coordinated and led from the nation’s outback it was a pragmatic choice for Fortellis to set up his death shop within a breathe of his potential challengers. It simply became a race between who would get to their object first – the revolutionists having their plan in place to launch an attack or the NWO creating a weapon allowing them to keep almost their entire military and Utopias untouched.

  What the executive officials of the Order did not predict or ever expect following the news Fortellis shared with them was the drastic turn about to befall the entire world, Utopias and scourge included.

  Testing had gone on for a few years by the time Fortellis let the other Utopian leaders in on his little secret, his little endgame. To date, the number of inmates furloughed into the testing program stood at over 20,000. Many of them came from the United States, Australia, England, Italy, South Africa, France, and Turkey. Despite their best efforts not all qualified candidates were brought forth since many of the world’s governments during the infantile stages of the NWO’s growth to power still hoped to mete out its own brand of justice.

  The Test Zone Zero plant took an old military base and expanded upon it to build a complex fortified enough to house all the eventual test subjects. At least 500 to 1,000 military personnel would be on site at any given time to provide protection from the outside world and in turn defend the facility from the potential threats inside. Two inmates shared one of the thousands of cells and eventually all were tested on at least once at the hands of any of the dozen scientists, doctors and other medical personnel.

  And survived.

  Most of the work of creating the laboratory-bred toys of mass destruction was entrusted to the small contingent of geneticists and bioweaponeers who holed up at the facility, working around the clock. The key was to find a disease they could spread through contact and would mimic the same properties of the plague. They hoped for a long incubation period as to push the spread further before potential carriers would finally go into the final stages of passing on. Fortellis wanted a disease that was a silent killer before loudly announcing it had been there all along.

  Not an easy operation.

  Of course, Fortellis did leave out that yes, the research did in fact also include some positive works. There was a need for better inoculations and remedies for various heart ailments and cancers. Of course, the search for bettering the medical community was focused on aiding the citizenry of the future Utopias, but even these advancements required human guineas pigs.

  Thus, came the creation of the “cocktail.”

  This in turn led to 20,000 men and women being injected with multiple strains of some of the worst viruses, cancers, and anything else their medical handlers could put their hands on. Each prisoner, each inmate, each test subject, would be riddled with the worst of all ailments known to mankind and be pushed to the greatest limits of pain and near death…

  And never die…thanks to the “cocktail.”

  The problem was eventually the NWO, its doctors, scientists, and everyone else in between, would get more than they bargained for.

  Every time a patient would reach the max of their pain and dying thresholds, the “cocktail,” would be injected and in moments the man or woman’s body would regenerate itself to almost its original form of health. Over and over again, a patient could be brought back, thus leaving the facility with a fixed number of test subjects.

  This ensured them their resources wouldn’t die out before finding the perfect strains.

  Yet, soon after the Utopias were in place and occupied, the revolution was ready to move forward, and Draco awaited an ultimate, killing, response to any threat on the NWO. Everything came to play in a package no one would expect…

  The scrat.

  The actual date when a changing world would take another more ominous, deadly, and apocalyptic path soon after, is still up for debate. Yet, the facts are what they are and the world created by the NWO via a path not expected, but for surely welcomed, are undisputed…

  Doctors Sherman Banning and Kendra Moreland were two of the best operating room attendees on record. Each was assigned to a man named Shah, one of the first test subjects at the facility. The doctors’ roles were simple: help with any apparent setbacks in testing by figuring out the problem, give the proper amount of cocktail and do anything else needed to soothe the patient’s recovery.

  On most days, the process took an hour at least and a few more than that at most.

  But on this day, it was happening faster than normal and too fast for comfort.

  Especially when Shah went into cardiac arrest and began to bleed out from his anus.

  The man had been injected with every strain of Ebola, pox, plagues, and newly created lab strain for almost two years, surviving it all.

  Thanks to the “cocktail.”

  Ah, yes…the “cocktail.”

  Moreland and Banning worked quickly as they watched Shah’s already dark skin bruise in various places and the arrest sent the man into a physical frenzy.

  With the aid of a large, stout nurse named Koko, the three worked feverishly to restrain what appeared to be a dying man in their generic, one of a dozen, antiseptic, labs. As the soldiers outside their doors manned the corridors of the laboratory and testing units, history was taking place in Room 43 unbeknownst to all but three people.

  “What the Hell is this?” Manning shouted at the other two. “This doesn’t happen.”

  “Guess what, Sherman…,” Moreland answered while her hands worked the first steps of defibrillation for Shah who continued to bleed profusely. “He is dying.”

  “Kendra…these people don’t die!”

  Moreland applied the gel pads to the defibrillator paddles as Koko ripped the man’s shirt open.

  “Well, there’s always a first for everything,” she readied herself over Shah as the man, despite appearing unconscious, continued to convulse.

  “What is this?” Banning looked down at the man’s torso and took note of the bruises continuing to grow on their patient’s body. Or were they…

  “Are they moving,” Banning put his left index finger on one of the bruises above Shah’s navel and traced what appeared to either be a growth pattern of a bruise or its potential movement.

  Moreland watched as she set herself to put the paddles down onto Shah’s chest.

  “Bruises don’t move, Sherman,” Moreland then looked over to Koko who nodded. The doctor took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and all her tension rose into her frail arms and hands.

  “Clear!”

  From that point on the story get a little muddled.

  Private Alec Romantine sent an email from his IPAD at 12:47 p.m. from his post at Test Zone Zero. The email, sent to his girlfriend Barbara, simply said: “Hey, babe, all goes well. See you in two weeks. Can’t wait to get off this rock and come home.”

  It was a slow day. Most doctors were on lunch and only a couple of medical personnel were working at the time. The main test subject of focus was taken to Moreland and Banning after appearing to suffer from chest pains.

  Moments later, an alarm went off throughout the complex, originating from Wing B, home of Lab 43, and where Romantine was posted.

  The private shot off another email at 12:54 p.m.

  “Holy shit, babe. I’m supposed to just watch over docs and sick people. Why the fuck is there an alarm going off in the compound?”

  Romantine was stationed at the main security portal to the labs. On the other side of the
door were three hallways leading to 16 different labs, totaling 48 in all placed within the wing. Each corridor had its own military pairing to monitor and keep watch on rooms where known inmates were being tested. To get into those corridors one simply needed to unlock the door with a keycard leading to the foyer outside the security door.

  Romantine’s ID number was punched in at 1:09 p.m. after two calls to his superiors went unanswered.

  He never sent another email.

  For the record, the public was never made aware of just how things played out.

  Unofficially? It was all caught on security cameras.

  Moreland twice tried the paddles on Shah to no avail as his spasms ended, the blood ceased to flow from his anus and for a bit, his ears. Then his heart stopped.

  The videotape told it all, shared the entire story.

  “This can’t be happening,” Banning looked over to an equally shocked Moreland. “What do we tell our superiors? This isn’t supposed to happen!”

  Moreland looked to Koko who was looking down at Shah. None of them expected any of this.

  They especially hadn’t prepared for what was about to happen next.

  It was caught on video, so it must have happened, right?

  It must have…

  Koko’s eyes are seen going wide as she continued to look down at Shah’s dead…

  Dead?

  …body. A growl or roar of some kind is heard and it is discovered it came from Shah. Only moments after being called dead, the first casualty of Test Zone Zero experimentation, Shah rose from the table and with tremendous force, head first and planted his jaws into the neck of the quiet nurse. Moments later, the screams came, a fist sized hole appeared in Koko’s neck, blood flowing profusely, and the two doctors backpedalled in a panic.

  Shah rose slowly, pushing himself into a seated position and was obviously chewing.