Parasite; The True Story of the Zombie Apocalypse

by Doug Ward

As evening approached, I rose from the bed, the form of my body leaving a ghost-like imprint on the comforter.  I smoothed out the impression, knowing how Melissa liked things neat and traded my old clothes for new ones.  After changing I looked into the full-length mirror on the back of the door.  I looked like some college leftover in a pair of camouflage pants and an Aéropostale shirt.  As I left the building, a soldier broke from behind the desk and followed at my heels.

  It was comforting, in a way, being guarded so closely.  O'Neill was really taking good care of me, watching out for my safety.  It was nice.

  When I entered the lab, I saw Dr. Mason hard at work.  A wall of books surrounded her. Piles sat everywhere; on the desk, chairs, and even the floor.

  My entrance caused her to look up.  While removing her glasses with one hand, she rubbed her eyes with the other.  She mumbled, "What time is it?"

  "About six," I said.

  "In the morning?"

  "No," I corrected.  "In the evening.  How long have you been here?"

  "About six hours," she answered, replacing her spectacles.  "Nice shirt, but you look like the oldest freshmen I've ever seen."

  "Thanks, but what are you doing here?" I asked, concerned.

  "I don't sleep very well lately and was just too curious," she apologized.

  "I understand," I assured her.  "Find anything good?"

  "No, but I have a theory."

  I removed a stack of books from a nearby chair and placed them on the floor.  "Let me hear it."

  "The thing that puzzled me this whole time was why does a strong trauma to the head kills the infected corpse.  Last night, it just kept spinning in my head."

  "And?" I asked, encouraging her to continue.

  "I believe it has something to do with the blood.  As you know, the human brain is floating in fluid.  This fluid has a very slight iron content.  Our human blood has much more iron.  I postulate that the parasite cannot survive in an iron rich environment.”

  "We did find larvae in the earliest blood samples from Subject Bill," I said.

  "That was the problem I was wrestling with, so I came back here and reexamined those samples.  The larvae, in all cases, seemed to have begun the maturing process.  These young parasites died because they just didn't make the cut.  Like sperm, how many die just to ensure that one makes it to the egg?  These parasite larvae were unable to leave the bloodstream and begin the journey to the brain because they were somehow unfit."

  "Something is missing," I said. "I thought that iron content was high in the brain’s tissue?  Isn't it an important conductor in the electrical processes of the organ?"

  "Indeed," Pamela agreed.  "But there are regions that have relatively low concentrations of iron.  Interestingly, low iron content in vital brain areas has been thought to be responsible for restless leg syndrome.  It compels the individual to move its limbs."

  "I don't think that the dead larvae in the blood samples were due to maturation.  What if the larvae actually feed on the brain’s iron, purposely depleting it in order to create the restless leg syndrome?  This would give the flatworm's host the ability of motion.  At this point, it would just have to compel the individual to attack and bite."

  Dr. Mason nodded at my assumption.  "That's good.  If the larvae absorbed that much iron during maturation, they may not be able to tolerate any additional amounts.  Unable to regulate their absorption of iron may be the mature parasite’s weak spot. The blow to the head introduces excess blood, causing the parasite to overload on the iron. That is what actually kills it."

  "Great work!" I said, hopes swelling.  "But what can we do with this?"

  "I don't know," she said, looking back at the book on the desk.  "It may be of interest that some people may be immune to the parasite.  At least, in theory, people with Parkinson's or Alzheimer's disease should be unable to host this parasite.  It is believed that they have an increased amount of iron in their brains."

  "Great! So all we have to do is inject all of the zombie’s brain cases with iron and they'll all drop dead," I said, almost laughing.

  She looked back up at me, obviously not getting my joke.  "It seems a blow to the head is still the best-known method for killing the organism."

  "It's just too bad that we can't just administer iron pills as a vaccine."

  "Agreed," she said.  "But iron is toxic."

  "I know," I assured her.  "I was just dreaming."

  "We need to get these findings to the CDC or someone who has specialized teams for this kind of work, but the only place I know of is in the middle of Atlanta."

  Pamela looked back down at her book, suddenly becoming overly interested in a diagram. "It's probably impossible.  There would be millions of undead between us and them."

  "Any better ideas?" I asked.

  She didn't answer, seemingly absorbed in her study.

  "I'm going to catch O'Neill up on your findings.  Do you want to come?"

  "You go ahead," she said, returning to her book.  "That man gives me the creeps."

  I had to admit that she was right.  He sure was a slick operator.  During our last encounter, he had manipulated me, turned my anger into self-doubt.  But I had his number now.

  I left and, as could be predicted, a soldier detached from the rest and followed me at a discreet distance.  As I traveled along the sidewalk, I couldn't help but notice the campus's condition.  Grass, too long neglected, was going to seed.  The flowers were wilting under the drought-like conditions.  I wiped the sweat from my brow as I increased my gait.  It would be dark in another hour or so.

  I barged into the outer office and waited for the clerk to receive me.  He seemed in a state of disarray.  Boxes of equipment were strewn about the normally pristine room.

  "The Colonel is not in," he said efficiently.

  "Where is he?" I asked.  "I need to update him."

  "He's in the field conducting operations," he responded hastily.  "I can get a message to him."

  "Just tell him Dr. Cooper was here with promising news."

  "Anything you need me to relay," he asked, recognizing me and suddenly becoming interested.

  "Just tell him I was here," I repeated, turning to the door.

  I was half way out when he sheepishly called after me, "Did you find a cure?"

  I closed the door hard, the glass covering the top half rattling from my effort.

  I had one last stop.  I wanted to check in with Melissa on the way to the lab.  I hadn't spoken to her in over a day and for some reason, I needed to hold her, just for a moment.  I wanted to be assured that she was all right.

  Clouds were just starting to form on the horizon, prematurely darkening the sky.  It looked like rain was on its way from distant Lake Erie.  With the heat index of the last few days, I was pretty sure it would be a downpour.

  I barreled into the dorm, the soldier still trailing behind.  Opening the door to our room, I saw Amber and Mel on the bed holding one another, crying.

  "What's wrong?" I demanded, my face heating.

  "They took the guys!" Amber cried, tears streaming down her face.  "Something's wrong!"

  I took them both in an awkward embrace, feeling wet faces on my neck.  We stayed that way for a few moments, allowing each to rein in strained emotions.

  "Where did they go?" I asked as we freed one another.

  "We don't know," Melissa answered, wiping her face.  "The guys just got off a shift and were exhausted.  Then a group of soldiers came and demanded that they follow.  Dean refused, but they aimed their machine guns at the guys and forced them to go."

  It all came out too quickly for me to understand the whole story, but I got the gist of what they were saying.  Things were falling apart.  We needed to find a way out of here.

  "You two stay here and pack anything useful," I commanded, kissing Melissa hard on the lips.  "Lock the door and wait for the guys.  If they show up before I do, come to the lab.  We're gettin
g out of here."

  "Where are you going?" Melissa cried, holding my arms and restraining me.

  "I need to do something at the lab," I explained, prying myself free of her grasp.  "I'll be back as soon as I can."

  Leaving the room, I tried to look nonchalant as I walked back to my lab.  The gunfire was definitely closer now, confirming my belief.  It took all of my self-control not to break into a sprint.

  My guard still followed me, but I stole some quick glances over my shoulder and noticed he was quite distracted.  He was looking everywhere but at me.  His head darted toward any sound or shadow.  It was growing darker by the minute and thunder boomed from afar.

  I calmly entered the science hall and casually made my way to the lab.  Inside, Pamela was scanning another book.

  "Any last thoughts?" I asked abruptly.

  "No," she said in a confused tone, returning my look.

  "Start downloading all of the data onto those flash drives," I demanded, indicating the pile of memory sticks.

  "What's wrong?" she asked, still sitting behind her fortress of books.

  Before I could answer what sounded like a burst from an automatic weapon ripped through the silence.  Pamela sprung into action.  Bringing the computer screen to life.

  "While the files are copying send as many to print as you can," I ordered.

  "Way ahead of you," she answered, not looking up from her work.

  After I had stashed the written notes and image printouts in an old messenger satchel, I handed her one of the test tubes containing flatworm specimens.

  "Where are the guards?" she asked in a scared voice.

  "Put one of these in your pocket, as well as a copy of the printouts and a flash drive," I told her, ignoring her last question and focusing on what we had to do.

  "Why so many?" she asked at as she removed one memory stick and quickly replaced it with another.

  "In case we get separated or lose one."

  "Where are we going?"

  I hadn't thought of that.  Where could we go?  Another burst of weapons fire erupted from outside.  "Atlanta!"

  Her eyes shot wide open as she slammed another memory stick home in its drive, "Impossible," she stammered.

  "What else can we do?" I explained as she continued loading one flash drive after another. "We need facilities, a trained staff. We can't do this alone."

  "There is another place," she explained reluctantly.  "This place is top secret."

  "Where?" I demanded, feeling betrayed.  She had never mentioned it before.  Didn't she understand that there were no more secrets now that the world had gone down the toilet?

  Something crashed in the hallway as she spoke.  "In the Allegheny National Forest.  Near the dam.  There is a-"

  Through the partially open door, a monster appeared.  Covered in blood, the creature lurched the few steps to where Mason sat.  She screamed and moved to flee.  Her first step knocked over a large stack of books. As she planted her next step, her footing slipped on the pages of a journal and she fell to the ground.

  The undead beast was on her in an instant, teeth ripping a large chunk of flesh from her shoulder.  I looked hastily about for a weapon.  Seizing the first thing available, I brought a laptop down squarely on its head.  The zombie dropped lifeless onto Pamela.

  Dropping the destroyed laptop, I grabbed its ankles and dragged the corpse off of her.  I knelt beside her as her lifeblood poured from her wound.  She looked at me, eyes distant, and breathed something.  I mustered all the courage I had and put my ear near hers, watching the blood run freely from her torn flesh, helpless to even apply pressure to the wound for fear of infecting myself.

  As she spoke, I had to fight the fear of her turning and taking a bite out of my exposed face.  Trembling in horror, I suddenly felt a strong urge to empty my bladder.

  Pam's voice was soft, dreamy, as she told me her last words.  I knelt, and then stood above her. If you looked at her just right, it almost seemed she was sleeping.  I took a few steps away, searching for something to strike her with.  I didn't want her to suffer the fate of rising again.

  "Where is the cure?!" a familiar voice demanded from the door.

  I spun around just in time to be thrown against a bookcase.  O'Neill grabbed me by my shirt and lifted me off my feet.  He was soaking wet, his hair plastered to his head.  "I gave you everything you needed, now where is the cure!" he threatened as my feet dangled.  I tried striking him but his grip was like iron.

  "There is no cure!" I explained through gritted teeth.

  The colonel was unreasonable.  He seemed driven by desperation.  His eyes were too wide, mouth grinning crazily.  "You lie!" he bellowed, pushing me even higher.

  At this height, I could clearly see past him.  His rage had him focused only on me.  I watched in horror as Dr. Pamela Mason rose from the floor and shuffled toward us, her wound still pouring blood as a large stain spread on her shirt.  Eyes white, she staggered unsteadily our way.

  "Let me down!" I demanded the colonel, trying to buy time.

  Pamela's walking corpse opened her mouth wide and bit the back of his neck.  Dropping me, he spun and swatted her away.  He drew his sidearm and put a single bullet into her forehead.

  "Crap!" I muttered.

  "Nice try," O'Neill said, calmly aiming his 9mm at me.  "You have five seconds to produce the cure or I am going to blow a hole in your oversized brains!"

  "Let me explain," I said from the floor.

  "One," he counted.

  "We now understand its life cycle," I tried to distract him.

  "Two."

  "The parasite can be killed with iron," I continued.  "Some people may be immune."

  "Three."

  "Five already!" a voice yelled from the door.  A burst of automatic gunfire sounded from the same place, striking the colonel in the head.  Blood and gore erupted as he dropped to the side, dead.

  "You could have gotten here sooner!" I reprimanded a dripping wet Dean.

  "It was more dramatic this way," he said jokingly.

  I picked up the lamp I had eyed earlier and smashed it angrily on what remained of O'Neill's head.

  "I think I already killed him," Dean stated confused.

  "It was a doubletap!"

  "I put at least five rounds in his head," he argued.

  "He was twitching," I remarked, collecting my satchel. "And, besides, it felt good!"

  I stooped over the still body of Dr. Mason and fished around in her pockets.

  "Look who's stealing from the dead now!" Dean accused, chuckling afterward.  When he saw that I didn't understand his reference, he continued.  "Back at the Kingdom Hall?"

  Grinning back I now remembered.  He had liberated the car keys from the guy in the downstairs kitchen; Eric.  Finding what I was looking for, I led my friend to a side door.

  "Where are Drew and the guys?" I asked, looking down the hall.

  "I sent them ahead to the dorm. All hell is breaking loose out there. I wanted to make sure the girls were alright."

  I didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the thought of those comic book geeks protecting anybody. I just couldn't imagine them defending anything other than a pizza.

  "Just like old times," he shouted, pressing a handgun into my grip.

  "I hate this part," I added as I switched the safety off.

  We hurried down the hall and out into the storm.  Lightning strikes briefly illuminating scenes of horror.  Soldiers were shooting blindly as the downpour limited their vision.  I saw a person being devoured by a small group of undead.  They surrounded their meal, kneeling around their screaming, still alive entrée.

  We sprinted through the tempest, avoiding anything that moved.  Dean ran with precision while I followed his lead.

  Moments later we were nearing the dorm, the lights of the entry revealing the undead.  As Dean cleared the way using controlled bursts from his weapon I swung my gun from side to side, protectin
g his back.

  "Clear!" he yelled, causing me to change direction and follow him once again.  Our wet shoes slid on the tile entry but we quickly recovered and pushed on.  Dean turned left at a T-shaped intersection without looking and immediately changed course.  Hands instantly followed him as three creatures came quickly into view.  Releasing my breath, I shot each at close quarters right in the head.

  "Not bad!" he complimented.  "Now you lead."

  I understood.  His gun wasn't the best thing for close quarters.  My handgun was much more suited for this type of fighting.

  I checked both directions. The one side was clear but there were two undead outside my dorm room looking very excited about what was inside.  Raising my gun. I calmly walked toward them, shocked that they hadn't been drawn to the most recent sound of my weapon.

  At about ten feet, they turned. I dropped each with another three shots.  I pounded at the door with my free hand.

  "Anybody home?" Dean called, always the comedian.

  The solid wood door nearly flew off its hinges.  Melissa jumped into my arms, hooting in joy.  As we broke our embrace, her hand brushed my gun.

  "That's warm," she observed.

  "Because I just shot them," I said, indicating the two dead zombies in the hall.

  "He shot three more back there," Dean helped.

  "You really are my knight in shining armor!" She grinned, eyes shining in delight.

  I passed out the flash drives, instructing everyone in a clear voice that this was our research to this point and that if we got separated, they should share it with anyone who could use it in any way.

  Frank and the boys had passed out spare firearms to Amber and Mel and were now checking their own weapons. I heard the sound of Dean checking his as he urged, "I hate to rush this but people we really should be..."

  "Moving!" I finished while slapping the revolver’s freshly reloaded cylinder closed.  "Everybody got everything?"

  A chorus of affirmation followed and we raced to the fire escape doors at the end of the hall. Through lightning flashes, we determined our best course, and back into the storm we went.

  The wind buffeted the rain off of our faces, obscuring our vision even more as we raced to the motor pool.  I watched, through one brief flash of lightning, a lone soldier being ripped apart by a group of zombies.  There was no time to help.  We were all on our own.

  I caught a brief glance of what I believed was Ben bashing a zombie out of Amber's way. The rain made it hard to be sure, but it looked like he struck it with the butt of his automatic weapon. They were there one moment and gone the next, the downpour masking them from my view.

  We crouched down behind a hedge.  The cars were all parked in the lot and on the road below.  The fire truck was there as well as a bunch of Humvees.  Many of the military vehicles had various packages piled nearby.

  "I knew they were trying to bug out!" I exclaimed, face streaming with water.

  "The fire truck is blocked in!" Drew informed us.  "What are we going to do?"

  "Let's try the Humvees," I suggested.  "If they have keys in them, I say they’re ours."

  No one argued so I lead the way to the lead vehicle.  I opened the door and jumped into the driver's seat. After spending a few moments fumbling for the ignition, I found it and a set of keys hanging in place.

  "Bingo!" I yelled in triumph while pumping my fist.

  Dean came up beside my open door, "The other one has keys too.  Let's get moving!" He ran around the vehicle toward the passenger door. A pair of hands came out of the rain and hauled him from his feet.

  I jumped back out into the rain and circled the vehicle.  A soldier was on top of him and Melissa was blocking my aim.  As I screamed for her to move, she fired her own shot.

  Chapter 33

  Melissa