Chapter 3

Adam's condition deteriorated rapidly. He was in agony

towards the end. He complained that it felt like glass was passing through his

veins. His heart and lungs slowly began to shut down. This young man's entire

life was in front of him prior to this. He expired on Wednesday, June 19, 2010,

at 6:42 pm. At 7:28 pm, he rose from his gurney and attacked another orderly.

The dead are dead no more….

It's been three weeks since Em and Adam have been

bitten. We did our best to contain the situation. When Adam attacked that

orderly, he was wrestled to the ground, and it took three other orderlies to

subdue him. The orderly Adam attacked soon went through a similar

transformation as Adam. I noticed that his transformation happened much more

rapidly than Adam's did. After the process repeated itself with two other

orderlies, we quarantined anyone who experienced a breaking of the skin due to

those infected and limited contact with them.

This was perhaps one of the strangest maladies I had

ever encountered. Adam and the three others were placed in the hastily

constructed plexiglass containment unit. They didn't speak, they didn't sleep,

and they attempted to bite anyone who got near them, which made feeding them

impossible. If it wasn't happening to members of my team, I would think it was

one of the most fascinating things I had ever seen.

Em, on the other hand, was beginning to show only the

slightest symptoms. She had a mild fever and her pupils were dilated. I

discussed a regiment of treatment with her. I suggested that we induce a coma

and place her in suspended animation until we could get a handle on this.

Em confessed her plan to use me to advance her career.

I told her I knew. She further confessed that she thought she was really

starting to fall for me. I assured her that her treatment would be the best I

could provide in either case. She reassured me that she actually felt something

for me.

We got the hospital's attorney to witness the power of

attorney she signed, and I proceeded to put her on a slow drip of the solution

to prep her for the suspension. Once her vitals stabilized and her

biomechanical functions stopped, I placed her in the facilities' freezing unit

in preparation for transport to a long-term facility.

When one of the three orderlies was bitten and went

through his change, I witnessed at least five occasions when blunt force trauma

was administered to the arms, the ribs, the neck, the shoulders and the back.

And while I am certain that some bones broke under the force, he did not react.

At least not in the way a normal person does. There were no screams. There was

no evidence of pain registered.

I deduced that if I was able to pinpoint what happened

to my stepfather, I might be able to determine what has happened to each of

those affected. The blood and fluids were blackened as if they were deprived of

oxygen just like with Charles. But, if there was no oxygen, how are their motor

functions continuing?

Adam and the three orderlies, who the interns have

been calling Deadest Night and the Pips,

have all been examined with the use of hazmat suits. There is no heartbeat.

There is limited brain activity. And while they seemed to be wheezing, they no

longer seem to need oxygen to sustain themselves. Their metabolism has slowed

to an unearthly rate, which begs the question: Why do they attempt to bite

everyone within arm's length?

I also learned that they consistently followed sounds

and smells. It is my belief that either their eyesight has failed or is not

used in their predatory conduct. They are ruled by an insatiable hunger that

can never be satisfied.

Today is the day of Charles' funeral service. His

remains are to be turned over for cremation. I have to be strong for my mother.

Life is a tricky, unpredictable bitch, but I guess that is why we all enjoy her

so. Looks like rain today too.

At the crematorium, the reverend said a few words and

Charles Williams' remains slowly entered the flames. A green hue burned

brightly in the fire. It was eerie. Usually, a body burns orange as the fat is

consumed. As I stared into the flames, I could have sworn that something rose

from that fire, a green cloud, or maybe even Charles' soul. I don't know what

it was. But whatever it was, it floated out over Greater Atlanta shortly before

the rain began.

We left the service, and I took my mom home. I sat

with her for a while until she fell asleep. I needed to get out and clear my

head. As I was exiting the house, my childhood friend, T, was approaching the

porch.

We embraced in a bro hug. I lingered a little longer

than usual. He noticed but said nothing. We disengaged our embrace and smiled

at one another.

"What's up, brother?" he said. "We have so much

catching up to do!"

"You don't know the half of it," I said. "The stories

I could tell."

We went out for drinks and I shared with him as much

as I could without betraying my patients' confidence. He shared with me as much

of his unredacted missions as he could. We laughed, reminiscing, but the

elephant in the room was huge. He finally broke down and asked.

"Have you heard from her?" he asked. "She wouldn't

write me back."

"Not for a while now," I said. "Sam wrote for a while

when she was in Japan. I think she has returned, but I haven't heard anything

definite. Ma said she has limited contact with my aunt as well."

I elaborated a little more about Charles, Em, Adam and

the other orderlies without betraying their confidences. T was fascinated, and

a few times he accused me of fabricating details.

"Get the hell outta here with that! That is wild, man;

you gotta listen to me! This is happening just like it does in every zombie

flick I've ever seen," said T. "The mad scientist; that would be you, cooks up

some shit in his lab; that would be the hospital, and poof now the dead ain't

dead no mo'; that would be those dead motherfuckers roaming around in that

plastic cage you set up."

T had a way of putting things in perspective that

forced me to forego scientific process and analyze through instinct. Until he

said it just then, I refused to believe that they were all dead or dying.

"Don't let that big brain of yours get in the way of

what your eyes can see," he said. "Shit! It's the end times I tell you. If I

was you, I'd find me a fortified bunker, get a whole lot of weapons and ammo

and shit, a few big booty bitches and all the food and drink I could stock. Oh,

and your best bud; that would be me, and hunker down until this shit is over.

And party like it's 1999!"

We laughed and downed our drinks. I thought about my

dad's will. I stared at T for a moment.

"T, can I trust you?" I asked. "I mean can I really

trust you?"

"Man, you're the closest thing I have to a brother,"

he said. "You can trust me with anything, including your life."

T's military training made locating the coordinates a

breeze. We made our way out to the ARC. Over the years the farms overgrew above

the ARC. At what passed for the main entrance was a terminal. The prompt

stated, "What is the measure of a man?" I began to laugh. T looked at me,

unsure what to make of it. I decided to leave everything as is. That's all I

need is the government on my ass again.

On the ride back to the bar, I told him that I thought

I might know how to access the ARC. We had a few more drinks and laughed a few

more times before heading back to my place. T would stay with me while he

figured out what life after the Marine Corps looked like.

I felt better than I did in a long time. Tomorrow, I

will look at this hospital problem with a new perspective. There has to be

something that I am missing.

The next day, I re-examined the tissue and blood

samples of Charles' that I still had. Mitosis was still occurring even though

the tissue was decaying. This was, in fact, living death. The proto-enzymes I

used propelled cellular and tissue animation and growth to new unknown heights,

but what I didn't count on was the re-animation of dead cells and tissue. The

mitosis has caused the cells to multiply and spread at a rapid pace. The

proto-enzymes had somehow mutated Charles' blood.

I now have a working theory on what has happened. I

set up a test with a few white rats with doses of Charles' blood. Do I really

want to know what happened? No, I have to determine if I caused this. I

injected Test Rat A, Trixie, with Charles' blood and induced cardiac arrest. I

then left Trixie in the tank with Test Rat B, Dixie. After a few minutes, my

greatest fear was realized. Trixie reanimated and began to devour Dixie. It ate

the entire back half of Dixie's body.

What happened next was even more shocking. After

another few minutes, what remained of Dixie's carcass, re-animated as well. The

front half of the rat's body crawled and clawed around the tank. I introduced

peanut butter, cheese, and fruit, but they both ignored it. I put in Test Rat

C, Jerry, and Trixie and Dixie devoured his body completely. All that remained

was the head, and a few moments later it re-animated. I was disgusted and had

the remains burned in the biohazard disposal unit. Again, an ominous green

cloud rose in the containment tank and just hung there.

Spectral analysis indicated that the cloud contained a

mutated version of my proto-enzymes. The strain must be transported through

blood and saliva when the rats ate each other. I placed Test Rat D, Ms.

Frisbee, in the tank with the cloud. There were no adverse effects and her

appetite remained healthy for the peanut butter, cheese and fruit.

I withdrew blood from Ms. Frisbee and sent two vials

to the CDC. There were traces of the mutated proto-enzyme in Ms. Frisbee, but

she had not succumbed to the death and re-animation. What's particularly

peculiar is that the mutated proto-enzymes seem to lie dormant in her.

I decided to do a brain scan and a workup of Ms.

Frisbee's blood and organs, and it was as I feared: I had missed something. I

induced cardiac arrest and prepared for the autopsy, but minutes after she

expired, Ms. Frisbee rose again. That has to be it. If the mutated

proto-enzymes are present when death occurs, they become active and

re-animation occurs.

It's a good thing that the proto-enzymes are relegated

to this hospit—Oh shit! Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit! That cloud after Charles'

cremation. I tested my blood. I was positive for the mutated proto-enzymes.

That means so is my mother, the crematorium staff, the reverend and anyone in

the Greater Atlanta area and within the path of the wind stream! Further test

denoted that the pathogen was indeed airborne.