by Byrd, Daniel
Tired of trying to construct a series of lies to tell the masses, Loft stood up from his desk and stretched. Clouds were rolling across the sky beyond the window behind him, foreshadowing yet another storm to come. What a dark day it would be. Just another as of lately, he figured. Since the revelation of the project came to the rest of the government, many had taken to calling the event by a very proper name; the Second Fall. Fitting, given the name of the project. Apparently some leaks decided to take that information and spread it, and now many news networks around the globe had adapted the name for the chaos that was still unfolding. At least that was all that was out there. Anything else would jeopardize his own reputation.
A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts, and he turned his head as it cracked open. The face of the General of the Army, James Houseman, appeared, and it didn't look the least bit happy. Then again, Houseman never really did smile.
"General?" Loft started. “The meeting isn't for another few hours."
"I know that sir, but you need to see something."
Loft grunted and stepped towards the door. “What is it? Did that madman Hamilton do something again?"
Houseman shook his head. “No sir, it's about the enemy. We've received a message; the first since three months ago."
Loft shoved past Houseman and ran down the hallway to the front door of the house he had spent the last three months in.
"Mr. President!" Houseman shouted behind him. Loft grabbed the doorknob and turned back to the General.
"Alert everyone. We're starting the meeting early. Have them gather in the library of the university."
"What about Hamilton?!" Houseman called out. Loft gave it some thought, remembering that Hamilton had asked not to be bothered for a while since he was working on something very important. The last few men who interrupted his work still refused to speak of what happened. They only stated their wishes to not be put on guard near him again. Just before Loft slammed the door behind him, he replied.
"That's a funeral for whoever wants to retrieve that madman right now."
***
The doctor's panicked breaths were visible in the frigid air as he wheeled the gurney across the cold storage room and out into the hallway. Two armed guards shadowed him to the lab, both uneasy about their current assignment to the man wheeling the body bag in front of them. They had both been assured that there was no danger posed by the doctor, but rumors get around, and supposedly this feeble looking man they were to protect held a twisted side to his somewhat polite, yet typically creepy demeanor. The doctor was well aware of their concern, and was humored by the thought of intimidating the very men there to protect him. Of course, the only captivating thought in his head at the moment was getting that body to the lab and dissecting it.
After being cleared by security stationed in front of the lab, the doctor pushed the gurney into the center of the large, dark room while the two guards eyed the body bag cautiously. Neither had any idea what was inside, and hoped for just a body, grim as that was. The doctor motioned for his medical team that began to gather around to bring the surgical equipment to him as he began to unzip the body bag. Taking a deep breath, he opened it up to reveal the gray and decomposed body of a young woman with a gunshot wound in her head. The stench was enough to draw gasps of air and a few gags, but the doctor was accustomed to the rancid stench of death. He'd smelled it enough over the past three months. He stared at the corpse with remorse for a moment while the other inhabitants of the lab waited quietly, all anxious to see what the doctor would do. To some, it appeared as if he was lamenting over this woman. Not one soul dared to speak a word.
The doctor pulled himself away from the body long enough to put on his latex gloves, and sighed at the empty spot where his little finger on his right hand was supposed to go. He didn't think he'd ever get used to its absence. Pushing the thought out of his head, he donned a surgical mask and grabbed the bag with both hands. With the help of his assistants, he lifted the body off of the cart and placed it on the operating table. The rest of the medical staff watched as the doctor grabbed a scalpel and began to make an incision around the top of the head. One of the guards grunted in disgust as the doctor pulled the skin back over her head and revealed the skull. The same guard grew weak at the knees as a power tool was handed to the doctor to cut into her cranium, and ended up stumbling away with a hand over his mouth as his larger partner chuckled. Pilot holes weren't necessary due to the fragile state of her bone structure. The bullet hole in her forehead contributed to that, and whatever nightmarish operations that had been performed on her before allowed the doctor to simply remove a large plate of her skull with ease. He handed the piece to an assistant who placed it on a tray next to the gurney.
The doctor hesitated as he prepared to remove the damaged brain from within her head, while the large guard was growing more curious by the second.
"We have to take all of these precautions just because of one of these things?"
The doctor nodded as he attempted to sever the spinal cord from the brain. “She was Tuefel's prized subject. We need to carefully analyze everything that wasn't damaged. We have the data on how her mutation works, but an autopsy is required to understand the 'why' factor.”
"I still don't see why you don't just yank the damn thing out so we can burn the bitch," the guard commented. He considered taking it back when the doctor's eyes flared up at him above his mask. The stare was more intimidating than the creature on the table.
"I still don't see why you don't drop a damn nuke on every square inch of this land to kill off the rest of these wretched atrocities. Oh, could it be that if you just recklessly destroyed everything instead of utilizing precision like that of Megacorpse, you'd kill everyone and render all of this pointless?" The guard wanted to rebut the statement, but lacked any good argument. The doctor sneered under his mask. “I thought so. Don't tell me how to do my job, and I'll refrain from offering the military equally preposterous ideas…even if my actions proved more effective.”
The guard cleared his throat and took two steps back as his slimmer buddy returned from collecting himself. Both conversed about the doctor's attitude towards his work as the doors to the lab burst open. A young man with blonde hair and an Army officer's uniform was standing in the doorway.
"Doctor! You're needed in the briefing room!" the man announced. The doctor sighed as the old, familiar voice in his mind spoke up against the intrusion.
Apparently it's okay for anyone to violate your rules, but you can't break theirs.
Ignoring the ever-present sound of the annoyance in his head, the doctor grinded his teeth from behind his surgical mask. Turning to face the intruder, he ripped it from his face and scowled at the man. “Can't you see that I'm in the middle of something?! I'm about to remove the brain of Tuefel's most dangerous subject! What the hell is so important that you felt the need to…” Another thought seized him. “Why the hell did they let you in?! Being an officer gives you no privileges over anyone else! I told security, no one enters this lab until-"
"Doctor, we've received another message from them.”
The doctor halted his rant, and calmly set his instruments down before heading towards the officer by the door. He was far too interested in the first bit of information from the terrorists since three months prior to continue the surgery.
"But...but, Dr. Hamilton!" one of his assistants called out to him. Dr. Evan Hamilton turned back and shrugged.
“Unfortunately, I have to take a leave of absence. Important matters to attend to. Do me a favor and finish up here, won't you? When you've removed the brain, put the body back in cold storage and ready me another functioning subject. Actually...fetch me the woman from yesterday. She's practically harmless without her teeth, and I'd like to test the nervous system's response to electrical currents. We still have to examine the reactions of the parietal lobe…damn, there's so much to do. I'll return momentarily.”
The two guards went to follo
w, but the officer at the door held up a hand. “That won't be necessary. Both of you, supervise this lab until we return.”
The larger of the two stopped in his tracks. “But-"
“No,” Hamilton interjected, “no ‘buts.’ Remain here, and try not to shoot anything abnormal you might see. If you do not see anything abnormal, then I will assume my staff are not doing their jobs correctly.”
The medical staff and two guards looked at one another in confusion as Hamilton left the lab. The slim, weak-stomached guard shook his head. “Weren't we supposed to be in charge of him?”
One of Hamilton's assistants spoke up, “I wouldn't challenge anything that madman says.”
The larger guard turned to face him, frowning. “And why's that?”
“The last one of us to question his directions was threatened with becoming his next cadaver. I know he can't legally do that, but I wouldn't put it past him to try.”
It was the slim guard's turn to speak up again. “And...and that's the man who all of the rumors are based around? The one who supposedly raided that facility full of these things on his own and killed everything inside?”
The same assistant nodded. “That is correct.”
The larger guard shook his head at the medical staff, remembering the photo evidence of the bodies that littered the road leading to the facility. The snow was a haunting shade of red for quite a few yards, and body bags were abundant. That very man was in charge of the group of people before him. “May God have mercy on you all.”
***
The Medical Center of the University of Washington was once a thriving environment for uprising students majoring in medical studies. Many great doctors had attended the classrooms that lined the hallway Dr. Evan Hamilton and Major Michael Hampton were walking down as they made their way towards the exit. The conference was being held in the Allen Library's auditorium at the center of campus, and of all the days for it to be called, it had to be the one with torrential downpour and near-freezing temperatures outside. Hampton quickly rushed to the awaiting Jeep parked in the street while Hamilton calmly walked through the rain and took his place in the backseat, looking forward as Hampton glared at him from the front. Smirking, Hamilton shook his head back and forth, tossing his overgrown and shaggy black hair around and throwing water all over the interior like a wet dog.
“You're really not happy unless you're pissing someone off, are you?” Hampton asked. Hamilton just pushed his glasses back up on the bridge of his nose and went to staring out of the window as the vehicle pulled away.
"The other me isn't, no," Hamilton replied. Hampton was about to question that answer, but remembered who he was talking to. Evan Hamilton was a strange person, and that wasn't just because of his preferred reclusive nature. The answer as to why was written in the man's psychiatric evaluation that was proving to be outdated; traces of multiple personality disorder, schizophrenia, and possible sociopathic tendencies. All of this bundled into the one man riding in the back of the vehicle made for a somewhat anxious trip across campus.
It was a short ride, but Hamilton couldn't help but feel a bit of nostalgia for his college days as they passed many of the buildings on the way to the center parking plaza. It wasn't Princeton, but he still enjoyed the academic setting, even if the place was desolate of anyone but the military presence. The medical center had been turned into the research facility for the greatest minds remaining in the country to combat the virus, and Hamilton was the man in charge. It felt good to be the king, unless you counted the many subordinates he considered worthless. He was always told he didn't work well with others, but never understood why it was so difficult. Why couldn't they just be quiet and stop alerting officials every time he asked for a volunteer? He wasn't going to solve this problem if he couldn't use live subjects to test theories on. With that thought, the nice little voice that resided in his head for so long decided to announce its opinion.
People don't like being turned into the undead, despite what you believe. If they did, they wouldn't be fighting against the threat, now would they? Seriously, your rationale confuses even me, and I'm a damn part of your thought process!
Hamilton just shrugged off the nuisance in his mind. As long as he didn't pay it much attention, it got bored. Then again, even after all of the years he had heard it, he wasn't sure that was a good thing. After all, when he was bored, things tended to get a little…exciting, and exciting had two meanings when it was between himself and others.
The last time you were bored, three of the men assigned to watch you requested a post change since you kept trying to infect them with mono. Just because the virus from Second Fall used mono as a basis doesn't mean you'll be able to safely use live subjects without consequences…even if the threat of death is eliminated. Of course, when you're involved, mortality is a variable, huh? You know, this is the reason I've stuck around.
Hamilton decided to ignore the pessimist in his head as the Jeep came to a stop at the loading dock on the side of the library. Conjoined with the Suzzallo Library behind it, this place was filled with enough books to occupy a person's lifetime. Hamilton actually relished at the thought of slipping some medical glossaries out while he was here, and maybe a few books on psychology. He still had some tests on behaviorism he wanted to try, but they would have to wait until this was all over, or at least until he found himself even more secluded.
The driver put the Jeep in park and hopped out with Hampton in tow. Once again, Hamilton was slow to follow as they walked under the overhanging bridge between both buildings. The soldier who had been driving entered first and disappeared inside of the building. Hampton remained outside and turned to face the doctor as they reached the doors to the library. "Now before we enter, I should give you an idea of who exactly you'll be attending this meeting with."
Hamilton was busy looking at the rows and rows of bookshelves visible through the windows. Though the lights were not on inside, he could still make out the vast collection. "Uh-huh…say, do you think I could take a quick peek around once we're inside before we begin?"
"Maybe afterward. Doctor, pay attention!"
Hamilton came away from the window in disappointment. "Right, right. Attendees?"
"Important people. The man entertaining them while they're waiting for you is none other than your best friend."
Hamilton had to crack a smile. "I wasn't aware he thought of me that way."
Hampton leaned against the wall next to the door. "You are familiar with sarcasm, right?"
The doctor shrugged as he wiped water from his glasses. "I never had many friends. Enlighten me, why are so many military officials in the same vicinity? That doesn't seem very wise."
Hampton glared at the doctor. "Hamilton, you're in the Seattle Haven, and you should know more than anyone else that this is the Military Haven for a reason. This meeting is important. The place is small, and lips are tight about this. Hell, you didn't even know of the meeting until I came to get you."
Hamilton couldn't argue with that. "Still, it seems dangerous."
"The only threat around here is you, Hamilton."
The doctor grinned as he put his glasses back on. "How's the mood in there?"
Hampton's expression became gloomy. He looked out at the rain and held a half-hearted laugh before answering, "Aggressive. Since the existence of the project was revealed to most of the higher-ups only after it began destroying the population, a lot of questions are being thrown around the room. Now that they know that there was a plan in place to counter the chance that the project would come back and bite us in the ass, a lot of the brass are wondering how we fucked up so badly. It's chaos right now."
"Perfect," Hamilton remarked. If he was lucky, they'd all be too pissed at each other to remember that he may or may not have been indirectly responsible for the cause of their bickering. If he was really lucky, someone would be armed. If they all killed each other, at least he wouldn't have to be a good boy and play by their rules anymore.
That's a lot of optimism…
"I'm actually glad they sent me to get you," Hampton admitted. "They're starting to tear into each other."
That got a laugh from the doctor. "They're just as bad as the enemy."
"Hell, even you said that those deadmen work together, right?"
Hamilton had to give him that one. Major Hampton may have been a part of the people making his life hell right now, but Hamilton didn't completely despise him like the rest. It was actually amusing to have someone to talk to who actually listened.
Aw, the introvert made a new friend.
The soldier returned to the door and knocked on the pane to get their attention. "Gentlemen, they're ready."
***
James Houseman wasn't a man to get nervous in front of an audience of his peers, but with every high-ranking official of the U.S. Military in one small auditorium expecting him to accurately make sense of the events that had transpired over the past three and a half months, he felt on the spot. Sending for Dr. Hamilton seemed like a good idea to help fortify his points, but he was beginning to doubt that plan as many in the room started to question the General's competency. Apparently, letting an unstable man sneak off of a top-secret military installation with weapons he acquired on the site and allowing him to travel states away on a personal vendetta brings the idea of control into question. Those questions were starting to get to Houseman.
