Alive

Cold.

The thought filtered through the thick sludge of Chris's mind, parting the darkness like a curtain. Then it was all around him, wrapping his body in an icy blanket, turning his breath to ragged gasps. A shiver caught him, rippling down his body, throwing off the last dregs of sleep.

Frozen air burned his nostrils as he inhaled, bringing with it the familiar tang of bleach. But there was more to the scent now, an underlying stench of rot and decay that made his stomach swirl. Opening his mouth, he tasted the metallic reek of blood and vomit.

Sound was the next sense to return. His ears tingled, catching the murmur of a breath, the creak of metal joints moving beneath restless bodies, the hiss of an air conditioner. From somewhere in the room came the whisper of machines, the familiar whine of overhead lights.

I'm alive. The words whispered in Chris's mind, though he couldn't quite recall why that surprised him.

Keeping his eyes closed, he sucked in another breath, struggling to restore the shattered pieces of his consciousness. Dimly he remembered the fire burning up his spine, spreading to his chest, filling his lungs. But there was no pain now, only the dull ache of his muscles, as though they had lain unused for countless days.

How long? His brow creased.

How long had he lain here, unconscious, in the clutches of whatever drug the doctors had given him?

Sounds came from all around him, growing louder, echoing as though from a wide expanse. Chains rattled as he moved his arms, and he felt the cold touch of steel restraining his wrists. Without opening his eyes, Chris knew he'd been handcuffed to the bed.

Apparently, the doctors weren't taking any chances with their patients.

Memories drifted through the darkness of his thoughts, rising as though from a fog. Images of the fight flashed by, the crack as Sam fell to a baton, the thud of Ashley hitting the floor. He had not seen what happened to Liz, not until the guards had overwhelmed him, and he'd found her curled up in the corner.

Helpless, he had watched as they'd lifted Liz onto the bed and injected her with something. Her screams had been instant and horrifying, so deafening that even the guards had retreated from her. Her agony tore at his soul, begged for him to save her from the monsters. But he had been powerless against the raw strength of the men on either side of him.

His heart beat harder at the memory. A sense of urgency took him, and he shifted his arms, testing the movement allowed by the handcuffs. The links rattled as he ran a hand along the chain and found where they attached to the bed's guardrail.

Other sounds came to him now: the beeping of a nearby machine, the whir of a pump, the hiss of air escaping tubes. His breath quickened, and he heard the beeping accelerate, matching the racing of his heart.

Somewhere in the room, a door banged. Chris froze, his fingers still clenched around the metal bar. The soft tread of footsteps crossed the room, followed by voices.

"Has the danger passed?" Halt's voice came from Chris's right.

"We think so." Chris recognized Fallow, though her voice was strained, exhausted. "It was a close thing though. I told you it wasn't ready."

"Perhaps," Halt replied, "but we expected losses. Despite our best efforts, some of the candidates were simply too weak to withstand the morphological alterations."

"We lost forty percent!" Chris winced as Fallow's voice cracked. He heard a sharp exhalation of breath, before she continued in a calmer voice. "I expected mortality to be less than fifteen. As it is, we barely have a viable population. If we'd had more time…"

"More time?" Halt laughed. "That is the cry of a coward, Fallow! More time, more money, always more something!" He took a breath. "As Archimedes once said: 'Give me a lever and a place to stand, and I will move the earth.' But us mere mortals only have the time and resources the government has provided us. And our time is up."

"The government will not be satisfied with a forty percent mortality rate, Halt," Fallow growled.

"No," came the head doctor's swift reply, "but if the survivors show promise, you will have won the time you need to find perfection, Fallow."

Silence followed. Slowly their footsteps came closer. Listening to the beep of the machine beside him, Chris held his breath, struggling to slow his racing heart.

"And have we succeeded, Fallow?" Halt's voice was eager.

It was a while before the woman replied. "The results are mixed. Tissue samples taken over the last few weeks show a steady integration between the host chromosomes and the viral DNA. Candidates who received the PERV-A strain have advanced more rapidly than PERV-B, and now show complete integration. However, we have yet to determine whether the altered genomes are expressing correctly."

"Excellent." There was unmasked glee in Halt's voice. "When do you expect they'll be ready to test genome expression?"

"We've taken them off the immunosuppressants. So far they've shown no adverse reactions. We expect them to wake from their comas over the next few days. Once they're conscious, we can begin testing their basic motor skills and cognitive function, to determine whether the virus had any degenerative effects…" Fallow trailed off as Halt snorted.

"We don't have time to waste on your procedures, Fallow. We need to move onto the second phase. For that we need results."

"I don't see how—" Fallow began.

"Don't give me that, Fallow," Halt snapped. "You know very well there is no need for your tests. As far as the Director is concerned, there is only one test the candidates need to pass."

There was a long pause before Fallow replied. "Halt…" Her voice was entreating now. "That's simply not possible. They've been unconscious for weeks. The recovery time alone…they're in no condition—"

"If the experiment succeeded, recovery time should not be an issue." Halt's voice sounded like he was just a few feet away now. "Look, this one appears to be conscious."

A tingle raced up Chris's spine at the man's words. Silently he fought the instinct to leap from the bed and flee. His arms prickled as goosebumps spread along his skin.

"You're right." Fallow's murmur seemed to come from directly overhead. "Her heartbeat has recovered to normal levels."

A girl's cry came from nearby, followed by the angry rattle of chains. Chris cracked his eyes open a fraction, desperate to see what was happening. Pain shot through his skull as white light streamed between his eyelids, momentary blinding him. Then the light faded and the room clicked into focus. Rows of beds stretched across a wide room, each occupied by an unconscious patients dressed in green gowns. A tangle of tubes and wires covered each body like a spiderweb spun around a fly. From the brief glimpse he caught, Chris guessed there were some seventy beds, though many were empty.

The girl Halt and Fallow were discussing was sitting up in the hospital bed directly across from Chris. Her back was turned to him, and both her arms were chained to the railings. Curly black hair tumbled around her shoulders, and with a shiver of recognition, Chris realized it was Liz.

She's alive!

Chris struggled to muffle his sharp intake of breath. Beside him, the beeping of the machine started to race. He clenched the sidebar of his bed until his palms hurt. Through the shadows of his eyelashes, he watched Halt move to stand over Liz.

"Incredible." Halt was studying the machine beside Liz's bed. Lines and numbers flashed across the screen, Chris guessed providing readings from the tubes and wires that covered Liz. "Look at her vitals."

Fallow stood in silence beside him, shadows ringing her eyes, her lips pursed tight.

Halt shook his head. "I would say she is fully recovered, wouldn't you, Doctor Fallow?"

Reluctantly Fallow nodded, a look of resignation coming over her face.

"Excellent, then I see no reason to delay. Get her ready."

Blood pounded in Chris's head, drowning out all reason. He didn't know what Halt had planned for Liz, what fresh horrors awaited her, but he refused to lie quietly while she faced it alone. Whatever happened, they were still in this together. For all he knew, Sam and Ashley might already be gone, but Liz still lived. He would not lose her now.

"Leave her alone," he growled, sitting up in the bed.

Liz turned towards him, her eyes widening with shock. Behind her, Fallow's face seemed to crumple, while a grin spread slowly across Halt's face. In that instant, Chris felt a pit open in his stomach; a sudden realization he had made a terrible mistake.

Still, it was worth it to see the relief sweep across Liz's face.

"Excellent." Halt clapped his hands. "Bring him, too. It may even the odds."