Our Undead

by Theo Vigo

  Margaret: Oh, Billy never fails to impress, and I expect that to continue, but let's not give him a big head. They should be impressed with you, Billy, but what about them? What happened to them?

  Billy: Foster dad told me that when he left the basement we were in to find his wife, he actually wound up finding her. They were going to come back for the others, and me, but on the way, they met up with a convoy of military transport vehicles. My foster dad said that they told the soldiers about our group of survivors… and how we were heading to the hospital, but the soldiers said they wouldn't deviate from their designated route. They told my foster parents that they were free to join them on their way to this compound, but if they were going to come looking for us, they would be on their own. They said it was a hard decision, but they decided to go with the convoy. That's… how they got here.

  Margaret: Aw, Billy. I don't know what to say.

  Billy: You can say what's real. My foster parents abandoned me.

  Margaret: They… It's a stressful time for everyone. People don't think straight in times like these.

  Billy: You don't have to make excuses for them, Margaret. They left me in that basement. They didn't even try. It's fine. I get it. The convoy was a Godsend. They probably saw it as their last chance at surviving. To be honest, it probably was. But we're all still alive. It worked out for the best.

  Erika doesn't know Billy as well as Margaret. No matter what kind of generic advice she could think to give surely wouldn't help the situation, so she fiddles with her used napkin. Even the talkative blonde girl who always has a smart retort feels like there is nothing she can say.

  Billy: You guys ready to go to the lab?

  Margaret: Ooo… heh, yea. I'm at capacity here, but I think I can manage. We are driving there, right?

  Erika: Yes, sweetie. It's a couple of intersections away, but I couldn't make you walk with a bad ankle, could I?

  Margaret: I don't think my ankle is my biggest handicap right now.

  She swings her legs out from under the table and takes her crutches up from off the floor, all the while rubbing her inflated belly with her free hand. She connects them to her forearms and let's the others know that she is ready. All three of them get up from the table and head for the cafeteria exit. Erika takes Margaret's tray for her since both the girl's hands are tied. They pass by the garbage containers to dispose of their waste and see Billy's parents sitting at the table as they walk for the door. Both groups exchange polite waves and nodding heads as Billy and his group exits the cafeteria.

  In less than five minutes, Erika and her passengers pull up in their cart to the entrance of Laboratory A-1. When Erika parks, they all disembark and go inside. The interior of the lab looks nothing like they expected. It's empty. The only person inside is a woman of Spanish descent. She doesn't notice them at first, busy fidgeting with and doing whatever she is doing with some laid out medical equipment. She only turns around when Erika blatantly clears her throat.

  Rosa: Oh! Hello, Ms. Blaze. How have you been keeping?

  Erika: Rosa, you're still awake, huh? I told you, call me Erika. I've been fine. Really getting to know this place, but uh.. We were looking for Gwen. Do you have any idea where we might be able to find her?

  Rosa: Oh, yes. You can find the professor and the rest of the doctors in Laboratory D-9. They're all there with that special infected one.

  Rosa puts her work down for a moment so she can walk over to Erika and speak with the group face to face. She looks exhausted.

  Margaret: Special infected. That must be Abe.

  Rosa: Yes. Abe. That's the one. Also, I believe that your teammates are there, as well, Erika. Actually, the General came in here about five minutes ago complaining about how everyone has disappeared, but we cant help it. We made some fascinating discoveries during the night. We're all so tired, but we have to keep working. I'm just cleaning up here, but I plan to make my way there afterward.

  Billy: (sighs) We're missing everything.

  Margaret: No, we're not. Erika, can you take us to D-9?

  Erika: Sure, we can go now. We have room for one more. Can we give you a ride too Rosa?

  Rosa: No. No, thank you. There's still work to be done here, but I'll see you there in the next hour or so.

  Erika: All right. We'll see you there.

  Billy and Margaret also bid Rosa farewell, and the three of them leave Laboratory A-1. Rosa goes back to sorting and storing the equipment.

  <><><>

  Doctor Alyster's laboratory is a contrast of its usual gloomy ambience. He followed General Feleider's suggestion and turned all of the lights on. In the rear of the lab, past the bookshelves and clutter, where he observes and examines patients, the good doctor's lab actually looks like a legitimate treatment facility. Back there, two soldiers sit upright, facing each other on neighboring beds, waiting to be processed.

  Both men are young, enthusiastic soldiers, infantrymen told that they had been hand selected to receive an advanced cure and preventative for the Crater Lake Contagion. Initially, they were extremely honored and excited to be the first two recipients of the cure, but as they sit inside the lab, one of the clueless test subjects begins to feel an uncertainty in his gut about the whole setup. His nervous vibes are very evident. The second young man he sits across from is considerably calmer. Doctor Alyster walks in between the two of them readying himself for the proceedings, with his tools strewn atop a medical tray that stands in between the beds, as well.

  Dr. Alyster: So! (coughs) Vhich von of you vants to go first?

  The men gauge each other, each feeling the other out to see who would be more likely to go first, to see who has more balls. The bolder of the two proudly volunteers first.

  Erikson: I'll go first. I don't wanna catch no contagions. Inoculate me, doc.

  Dr. Alyster: Take off your shirt und lie facedown.

  The eager but ignorant fighter follows the doctor’s instructions and slips off his white t-shirt.

  Palmer: Good on ya, man. I can wait my turn. I got no problem with that.

  Dr. Alyster: Don't vorry. It vill come soonah zhan you expect.

  Erikson gets into place, laying facedown on his operation bed, fitting his face comfortably down into its head space. The doctor already has his things in order and promptly begins preparing the patient's lower back for injection. He wipes it down.

  Dr. Alyster: First, I vill put in zhe anesthesia.

  Palmer: That's a… That's a pretty big needle.

  Dr. Alyster: Yes! And your friend had bettah not move or it could be fatal.

  The doctor is over exaggerating, of course, but his patient makes sure to settle down quickly. As soon as the doctor concedes that the man is completely motionless, he pops the five or six inch needle down into the patient's spine. Palmer flinches from where he sits when he sees the doctor prick his comrade.

  Palmer: Fuck me. Man, did you feel that?

  Erikson: It wasn't that bad.

  Dr. Alyster: Next, I am going to inject zhe antidote. (coughs)

  The next needle Doctor Alyster picks up is a couple of inches larger than the first. The barrel is filled with a transparent and muggy brownish fluid. Alyster takes a close up look at its contents and lightly taps the side of the barrel's delicate glass.

  Palmer: Aw shit, Erikson. This one looks wild.

  Erikson: There's no going back now, man. Go, doc, go!

  On his word Doctor Alyster thrusts the needle down, and Erikson feels the painless prick of its point enter his back. When it reaches as far as it can go, Doctor Alyster compresses the syringe and lets the upgraded version of E-TE12 spread into and throughout the unsuspecting soldier's nervous system. He pushes down until the entire barrel is empty, and then slides the needle out in one quick motion.

  Dr. Alyster: Finished. How do you feel?

  Erikson: I feel just fine.

  Dr. Alyster: Good. Stay zhere for five minutes. It's your friend's turn.

  Palmer: Damn, that
was sooner than I expected. Erikson, you sure you're okay?

  Erikson: I feel great. Stop being such a coward. What kind of soldier are you, Palmer? Goddamn, I think this antidote has my damn sinuses clearing up. Doctor, this place smells horrible!

  Dr. Alyster: It's not a flowah shop. (coughs) Your shirt, boy.

  Palmer: All right. If you say you're feeling good. Bring it on, doctor.

  The nervous man composes himself to his partner's reassuring words. He takes his own t-shirt off and gets into position, laying facedown on his own bed. Doctor Alyster quickly gets right into beginning the procedure over again; rubbing the patient's lower back and injecting him with lidocaine, this time without warning. Palmer yelps in pain, more like surprise, but the doctor ignores him and carries on.

  Palmer: You can at least give me a warning.

  Dr. Alyster: Zhis cannot be your first experience vit vaccinations. You should be used to it.

  Palmer: Yea, I could still use a warning.

  Erikson: Would ya just let the doctor do his job? The man clearly knows what he's doing. Not only are my sinuses clear, my body actually feels lighter. I feel like I just chugged like, five energy drinks. Trust me, it'll be worth it.

  Erikson looks at the palm of his right hand, examining it as if super powers have just been bestowed upon him, while again, his words relax his fellow soldier. Alyster comes back tapping another full syringe of microscopic cyber-parasites.

  Dr. Alyster: Now, zhen! This is your varning.

  Palmer: Thank y-

  Doctor Alyster sticks the man with the needle before he can even respond with any confirmation of even receiving his warning. Palmer's body tenses up, still having to experience the unexpected element he had been trying to avoid in the first place. But he relaxes himself, remembering the doctor's warning about the possibility of death.

  Palmer: Heh,.. heh heh.. Feels uhh,… Feels weird.

  Doctor Alyster empties this barrel completely into the man, and then slips the needle back out. He dabs the entry point with a swab of cotton.

  Dr. Alyster: How vas it?

  Palmer: Hm, not bad.

  Dr. Alyster: Good. Now, you lay heer for five minutes, as vell.

  The good doctor begins putting his things away, all the while questioning his test subjects.

  Dr. Alyster: Erikson… How are you feeling now?

  Erikson: Still feel great. Never felt better in my life. I don't think I have to lie down anymore.

  He springs up energetically and goes back to his upright, seated position on his bed.

  Palmer: You know something? I think I'm beginning to feel what you're talking about. I swear to God, I think I can see better. Is this some sort of miracle drug? I feel like I'm wearing my glasses.

  Erikson: Doctor, what kind of cure is this? It's like a super drug. Like, I've felt the effects of some serious meds in the past, like, meds… like, you know what I mean… but never has any of the stuff I've taken made me feel like this. I feel… powerful.

  Dr. Alyster: Sit still.

  Doctor Alyster takes a hold of the man's wrist and studies his pulse, then stands in front of him and holds a small light up to his eyes.

  Dr. Alyster: Follow zhis light, but only vit your eyes.

  Palmer: Oh look, you're getting a sobriety test.

  Erikson: Heh, haven't had to do one of these in a while. How am I doing, officer?

  Dr. Alyster: Fine, fine. Open your mout.

  Next, Alyster takes a wooden tongue depressor and presses the patient's tongue down. He shines the same small light down the young man's throat and peers down his esophagus with one eye shut. The soldier tries to speak with the oversized Popsicle stick in his mouth, but his words come out as gibberish.

  Palmer: Erikson, it's not polite to talk with your mouth full. We don't know what the hell you're saying.

  Dr. Alyster: No, vee do not.

  The stubborn and newly invigorated Erikson tries to speak with his mouth full again. This time his nonsensical sentence is cutoff by a violent cough that hits Doctor Alyster square in his old mug. From his horizontal position, lying on the mattress, the first soldier can't see Doctor Alyster's face. His view of it is blocked by the doctor's back. He hears his friend cough again and witnesses Doctor Alyster move harshly backward. The good doctor turns away from the coughing Erikson, wiping his face with his sleeve, and his front side is revealed to the patient Palmer, still laying down.

  Palmer: What the hell is that!?

  Doctor Alyster's face and much of the front of his coat have been sprayed with blood from Erikson's mouth. Erikson's coughing persists, and blood continues to sprinkle heavily from his mouth with each one. He belts them out more frequently, and starts convulsing fiercely. His counterpart jumps off of his bed, frightened for his own life.

  Palmer: What the hell did you do to him?! What the hell did you give us?

  The doctor looks back at the spasming volunteer and tries to settle his body down on the bed. He manages to lay Erikson on his back, even as the coughing and spitting up of blood continues. It splashes up into the old man's face as if it is the canvass, and the blood is the paint, in the middle of a red themed action painting jam. Even so, Doctor Alyster manages to hold the raging Erikson down.

  Soon enough, Erikson's body begins to quiet itself. Alyster keeps his hands pressed firmly against the young soldier's shoulders just in case, but eventually, the possible future veteran sputters his last incomprehensible utterance and breathes his last breath. The bright crimson rolls down the sides of his face, especially from his mouth, and his eyes stare vacantly off into his partner Palmer's direction. Palmer stares directly at Erikson's dead face, speechless.

  The majority of Doctor Alyster's face is red, covered in blood polka dots of a variety of sizes. He cautiously releases the once convulsing man and feels for Erikson's pulse again. Behind Alyster, Palmer stands watching and hyperventilating.

  Palmer: Don't tell me he's dead. Don't you frigging tell me that he's dead!!

  Dr. Alyster: It would seem zhat zhat is zhe case.

  Doctor Alyster turns around so that he can speak to Palmer to his face. He finally wipes his own face off, but with his sleeves that already have quite a lot of blood on them.

  Dr. Alyster: (coughs) It vasn't ready, aftah all.

  Palmer: What're you talking about?! Ready!? What kind of rushed cure is this?!

  Dr. Alyster: It's not a cure, you fool. Just relax und tell me how you feel. Your fate may not be zhe same as your friend's.

  Palmer: The hell?! My fate?! Man, you gotta be kidding me!!! What type of conspiracy shit is this?!

  Palmer lashes out at Doctor Alyster and grabs him up by the collar. He pulls the little old guy almost up to his eye level.

  Palmer: What'd you put in me!?

  Dr. Alyster: I would suggest you relax.

  Palmer: Don't tell me to relax!! I just watched you kill Erik… Erik...

  The angry soldier begins to withdraw and deflate, slowly letting Doctor Alyster's heels come back into contact with the ground. He backs away from the doctor at a slow pace, his mouth agape, as well as his eyes. Alyster is unworried and as nonchalant as usual. At his age, he has no time for fear.

  Dr. Alyster: Oh, no. It's happening to you too, now. Just try to relax, huh? Breathe deeply. Stay conscious.

  Palmer continues to back away from Doctor Alyster slowly, and the doctor follows along with his hands out, ready to catch Palmer just in case he decides to throw a fit like Erikson did. But that's when the doctor realizes that Palmer's eyes are not focused on him. They're focused on something behind him. When that comes to the head of his attention, he begins to hear the sound of heavy, labored breathing, like an extended hissing from a collapsing balloon. It too, is coming from behind him.

  Alyster turns around to see what could possibly be making that noise, and on the bed, he sees Erikson, lying there on his back with his eyes wide open. They are blinking, grey, and wandering haphazardly around the lab's ceiling. His mou
th is open too, and his jaw opens and closes, his teeth occasionally snapping down on themselves, but no noise escapes them besides the hissing. Erikson's limbs appear like worms, writhing oh so subtly. It looks like he must be in tremendous amount of pain, but the doctor knows the story.

  Dr. Alyster: Vhat vas vonce dead has come back to life. (coughs)

  It must be the sound of his voice that catches the risen patient's attention, because Erikson's eyes stop wandering the ceiling and find their way to staring Doctor Alyster directly into his. The doctor sees the distinct grey pupils, and his own fate becomes undeniable. He waits, while behind him Palmer watches on, baffled and in a state of shock. The frightened man chooses to wait out the staring competition going on between Alyster and his transformed ally, but it ends in the blink of an eye, when suddenly, Erikson leaps off of the bed and on top of Doctor Alyster.

  Palmer watches the doctor on the floor trying to fight his friend off, but the old man is no match for Erikson, who seems to be using more strength and adrenaline than Palmer has ever seen him display before. Alyster gets a few good slaps in here and there, but when Erikson's head snaps down into Alyster's neck like a triggered bear trap, it's pretty much over for the good doctor. The sight of it makes Palmer cry out in terror.