Alpha-11

The examination staff brought Philip a cooked slab of prime rib.  One of the young scientists held the meat to Philip's face with a set of long tongs.  Philip showed signs of confusion over the cooked food.  He examined the meat with an inquisitive stare as if he wanted to consume it but was not sure if it was something he desired.  He sniffed a few times and turned his head toward the scientist holding the food obviously more interested in a human meal than in the cooked food.  Philip continued to stare which made the scientist uneasy and he eventually took the tongs away from Philip and placed the steak into a bag and sealed it for tests.

Dr. Dawson was busy examining Philip's blood through a microscope.  The blood had already begun coagulation which meant that it was no longer flowing and useable to Philip.  "From what I can tell our subject is deceased.  There is no indication of any functioning system in the body".  A group of young doctors dilligently took notes as Dr. Dawson explained his findings.  "What I would like to do is remove some of the subjects vital organs and determine what is causing his body to continue functioning".

The medical team suited up into surgical scrubs and brought in the necessary equipment to perform organ removal.  Dr. Dawson tied his surgical filtration mask around his face and placed a cap on his head to prevent any hair from falling onto Philip.  He ordered his staff to anesthetize the subject while it was still unclear if Philip could feel pain.  As the doctors injected Philip with regional anesthesia Dr. Dawson kept a careful eye on Philip's brain waves.  The needle was inserted and there was no indication that the brain was receiving any type of stimulus from the area of entry.  Normally the brain would go from being stimulated due to pain and slowly calm as the anasthesia set in however Philip's brain pattern never changed.  His hypothalamus showed active as he remained in a constant state of hunger.  Dr. Dawson waited for ten minutes and decided to proceed with the surgery.  As he cut into Philip's chest he noticed that the blood did not rush to the area of incision in fact there was no blood at all.  His chest opened as if the doctor was cutting through leather.  The doctor then broke through Philip's rib cage all the while no reaction from the subject aside from his continued gnashing at the staff.  To prevent any bites the team tied down his head and neck keeping it as stable as they could.  Philip would open his mouth and bite the air with no effect.

Dr. Dawson pulled away the ribs and stared into Philip's chest.  His heart was no longer beating.  Most of the team gasped when they saw it but Dr. Dawson remained calm as if he'd expected it, which he did.  He cut the heart out completely and removed it from the chest cavity.  All the while Philip's status never changed, his brain showed his hunger and his face stayed steady on the doctors.  Dawson took the heart and placed it on an examination table.  Out of habit he tried to reach for the stitching but realized there was no need to stitch the subject as his wounds were permanant uneffective.  Dr. Dawson left Philip's chest opened and walked off with his heart to examine it in private.  Most of the medical team stayed put, unaware that they were staring at the dead boy who was not quite dead.

"Let my research show that our subject is not alive in the functioning sense of a living human.  It however is reactive to uncooked food showing the urge to feed though it's brain may not even know why.  The molecular structure of protein in flesh is broken down when heat is added to it.  It appears that the pure protein in uncooked flesh has a level of amino acids that is unattainable in it's cooked counterpart.  The heart of the subject is non-functioning meaning that the subject's brain is the only thing keeping the body alive, in a sense.  Enough nervous stimulation is reaching the system to cause muscle movement in the most primal of means.  At the present time there seems to be no awareness of subject's surroundings and no indication that it can think or process typical information.  We will continue with our tests alloted the amount of time we are given.  I plan to research the brain with a risk of destroying the subject however if we are able to find a resolution or a way to slow down the subject's degeneration it may be worth the risk".

James Dawson turned off his recorder and placed it on his desk.  He removed his glasses and rubbed his temples which he often did when he was thinking.  His office was dimly lit by florescent lights powered by a diesel generator stationed outside of the constructed research tent.  The lights irritated James, though througout his career he had been exposed to years of bathing in the artificial lights.  At fourty-two years old time had not been kind to the doctor.  A self-proclaimed work-a-holic, James had spent two failed marriages within the confines of various hospitals and research labs.  Originally specializing in Orthopedics he felt himself being drawn away into the field of Biochemistry which was why he was chosen to lead the team there.  He rarely kept in touch with his 2 children and often wondered why he thought having kids was good in the first place.  Though now as he sat in his makeshift office, surrounded by researchers and doctors, he thought about his previous life with his families and the regrets that he could have avoided if he hadn't been so driven to succeed amongst his peers.

His right hand brushed through his thinned hair and he touched the bald spot on the back of his head.  Maybe if he hadn't been so stressed all of the time he could have avoided losing it.  It didn't matter now, who knew how much time he had left.  The world had taken a turn for the worse when he met Philip.  Nothing had been written about this disease, there were no records of past incidents.  Dr. James Dawson was now writing the history of human kind in his small poorly lit office.

Alpha-10

The group sprang into action.  Robert and Andrew ran to the side door of the safehouse and out into the parking lot hidden from view to the outside world.  James, Sarah, Norma and Mark all began grabbing items from the lockers.  Guns, food and toiletries were their priority.  Sarah grabbed two large utility bags from the shelf and began to fill them with random guns from their small "armory" including whatever ammunition she could find.  She was shaking so bad from adrenaline that she had trouble focusing on what she was doing.  It was pure survival instinct that she was running on, without knowing the plan she was forced to have faith in Andrew's decision.  He had never let them down before, and Sarah had to remind herself that he wasn't in the business of breaking that streak.

James piled all of their food supply into a bag as fast as he could.  He tried his best to take the lightest food items he could find, avoiding larger cans that would only slow them down.  Norma and Mark made their way to Mark's area and grabbed some of his things.  Old toys that the team had collected in their reconnaisance and some activity books that would keep Mark's mind off of things.  Mark felt like he was old enough to be a part of the family and hold his own.  It was an admirable trait but one that Andrew didn't want to rely on.  Andrew would occasionally include Mark in on their activities but for his own safety and Sarah's sanity Mark was usually left behind or to himself as the team would do what they needed to do.

Andrew and Robert entered the parking lot and quickly uncovered their mode of transportation.  It was an old 1999 Chevy Suburban that could comfortably seat all six of the group and tote their supplies in the back.  The truck was in great working condition thanks to Robert and his skill set and the fact that it ran on diesel fuel made for longer treks without refueling.  Robert pulled the rest of the tarp off of the truck as Andrew climbed into the driver's seat and started up the engine.  It let out a loud roar and kicked out a good amount of old exhaust from the tail pipes.  Sarah and the inside crew came running out of the safehouse and quickly threw their bags into the back of the truck.  Andrew grabbed two pistols from the weapons bag and placed them into the center console of the Suburban making them easily accessible.  The family filed into the truck, Robert at the passenger side seat and the rest in back.  Andrew put the truck into drive and they drove straight through the homemade fence built directly afront the parking spot. 

Out on the street Andrew took an immediate right and drove passed several parked cars and walkers.  As he drove with highbeams on, the shadow of several walkers could be seen from the side windows of the vehicle.  There were more walkers out and around the perimeter of the safehouse than the group even anticipated and as he dodged obstacles and potholes he slammed right into one who have been shambling in the middle of the street.  The Suburban met the slack body with a sickening thud and Sarah let out an embarrased yelp.  The walkers body was completely crushed as it dragged underneath the truck and finally detached and rolled under the rear tires.  Mark stared out of the back window and watched as the walker continued to twitch and shake as if trying to stand up but was unable to due to the fact that it's chest and arms were completely flattened by the weight of the truck.

"Where do you want to go?" asked Robert.  Andrew paused for a few seconds trying to compose his thoughts.  "I'm not sure.  I know you all are going to think I'm crazy for saying this, I don't even believe it myself but we need to make it to Washington.  Something there is pulling at me, call it whatever you want but I think that's where we need to go".  No one commented, not a word was said by anyone.  As Andrew looked into the rear view mirror at the group that sat behind him, watching the safehouse fade away into the night nothing but violent intensity shrouded thier faces.  He knew that this call was his to bare.  If something happened to any of them, it was because of his decision.  The startling realization of what lay on his shoulders finally set in as he kept both hands on the stearing wheel of thier traveling home.  Tears began to well in his eyes as he blinked them away.  He had no idea what he was doing, and they all thought he did.

Alpha-9

"Is my hospital secured?" asked the police Captain.

"Yes sir, we have evacuated every non-infected from the building.  We also cordoned off each exit and have uniformed officers standing by with weapons to make sure no one else gets in or out".  The police sergeant was exhausted, he had just run around the hospital from each post making sure that every officer was in place.  In his career he had never seen an emergency at this scale, occasional fires or car crashes but that was typical for a police officer in his day to day duties.  This was the first time he had to respond to a call of people biting other people, and then those people carrying on biting others.

"What about the Syrafax family?" inquired the Captain.

"Sir, Mr. and Mrs. Syrafax are gone.  We don't know where they went but in the chaos of everything they just up and disappeard."

The scene within the hospital walls was a terrific nightmare.  The hospital staff that had responded to Philip in his room were now roaming the hallways and treatment rooms looking for their next target.  It took 12 armed police officers just to restrain Philip and move him into the quarantine tents set up outside of the hospital.  The local emergency response unit had set up 3 giant white tents each with it's own treatment and testing facility.  In the night they looked like an oversized golf balls set amidst blue and red flashing lights.  Doctors and scientists had already been dispatched to review this extraordinary case and were hard at work poking and prodding Philip inside his secured treatment tent.

What was left of the survivors in the hospital was undetermined.  What the police did know was that approximately 125 people had been evacuated and moved into adjacent tents for evaluation while the remaining people were left to fend for themselves inside the coffin of a hospital that now existed.  From the outside you could hear the chaos, screams of people being attacked, groans of the infected as they hunted their prey.

Doctor James Dawson was one of the responding physicians in Philip's tent.  As the onscene doctor he took command of the response staff.  They had restrained Philip to a gurney with half a dozen straps from his ankles to his neck.  As he lay there, a former figure of himself he continued to gnash and bite as the team would walk by, straining every muscle of his tiny frame to get to them.  In the midst of all of the tests, one of the junior doctors approached Philip too closly and unaware of his capability to manipulate his body was bitten on the left forearm.  Immediately the doctor was escorted out of the tent by guards and placed into a different treatment room.  "I want every person who has been bitten to be kept alive for testing" shouted Dr. Dawson.  "It's imperative that these people have a chance to be treated in the case that we find the cause of this virus".  Dr. Dawson approached Philip, wearing his white plastic hazmat suit and drew blood from his arm.  Philip's veins were dark, almost black and as he inserted the needle into his left arm the blood sprayed out onto the visor of the doctor's face shield.  Dr. Dawson extracted only a small amount of blood before Philip's vein collapsed.  He attempted the blood draw several more times but was unsuccessful in collecting any more.  He looked down at the sample he had taken and thought to himself that this would be enough for now.

Philip's body had begun to depreciate in just the few hours that he had ressurected.  His skin was a grey hue and had dried out significantly leaving creases at the point of his folds.  The sclera of his eye was still a deep blue color and the cause was unknown.  The gun shot wounds that he had incurred were still very present but had stopped bleeding hours prior leaving behind only streaks of dried blood.  The whole wound in fact was completely dried out as if they had been there for years of his short life.  On his hands his fingernails were a cloudy grey color, like the extra skin that grows from the cuticle to the tip.  His hands were stained with dark arterial blood, and fragments of skin were still lodged underneath his fingernails.  A tooth was missing from his mouth, most likely from when he had bitten one of the hospital staff but was no where to be found.  As he lay on the gurney that the doctors had restrained him to he was unable to be still.  The muscles in his body were constantly twitching and straining as the staff worked dilligently around him.  Every so often he would gnash his teeth in the direction of one of the nervous scientists.  Tubes and sensors were strewn about his body and the tent, monitoring his status.  His heart continued to beat at a rapid pace, as if he had been running for miles, but his breathing had not accelerated at all.  His brain scans showed significantly little activity in general aside from the hypothalamus which was over reactive at a constant rate.  "This part of the brain controls a multitude of daily activity, but in this case it appears that the subject is extremely hungry" Dr. Dawson commented to his staff.  "Let's try and bring some food in here and test the subject's reaction to various food stimuli".  Philip's body was also running a temperature of one-hundred and six degrees which would have technically killed him, had he not already died.  "It appears that the only thing keeping the patient alive is his craving for sustenance."

Two hours later the staff had come through Philip's tent with various types of food.  The first test was a head of lettuce.  One of the young doctors took lettuce out of a grocery bag and held it up to Philip's nose.  Philip studied the vegetable with is eyes though it was obvious there were no signals being retrieved in his brain, it was a blank stare like someone who was on the verge of falling asleep.  He cocked his head left and right as he examined the food in front of him.  His brain waves indicated his hunger and he took a bite from the lettuce and promptly spit it out.  He was not interested.  The doctors produced a raw chicken leg and held it up to Philip, his brain waves began displaying a higher measure of activity as he investigated the raw meat.  He took a bite out of it including part of the bone and began to chew as if he was unsure of the product that was in his mouth.  He swallowed and immediately bit off another piece, chewed it once and swallowed.  As he lunged for the next bite the doctors took the chicken away from his face and his head followed the meat as they placed it into a container for further examination.  "It appears that the subject has an appetite for raw stock please note that in the records, now let's try something cooked".

Alpha-8

     As the make shift family of survivors sat down to eat, Norma gave the blessing.  Their dinner consisted of generic canned meat, some canned green beans and sticks of beef-jerky.  Though it wasn’t the most ideal food for a dinner, it was something that the survivors had become used to.  As always, Robert sat at the head of the table, considered a father figure by the group with Norma to his right.  Andrew sat at the opposite end of the table from Robert with James to his right.  Sarah sat next to James and Mark sat across the table next to Norma.  This was their family, whether they liked it or not.  It wasn’t initially easy to get along, they had their problems like any other family, but this is what was now familiar to them.

         As they sat and ate Andrew stared at his food, clearly something was bothering him.  “Son, are you alright, you don’t seem your usual self tonight?” asked Robert.  Andrew wasn’t sure what was going through his mind at that moment.  All this talk of Jason made him truly question the reality of this man and his existence.  Andrew knew that the group could not stay in the safe house forever.  He understood that at some point they would be depleting their resources and have to move on to another area.  “Guys, I don’t know what’s going on lately, but I think we should plan on taking a trip to somewhere else.  We may find some other survivors and a better living arrangement.”  The group looked at him quietly digesting their food and the thought of leaving their place of comfort.  For awhile now this place had become a home to them, the safest home they could hope for in a long time.  They knew that leaving the safe house was a terrible risk, but they also understood what Andrew was saying.  “I think that maybe we should draw up some sort of a plan”, said James to the group.  Robert nodded his head.  “We have to consider what we should take with us and what we can afford to leave behind.  If we go of course,” added Robert.  “This isn’t something that I would bring up if I didn’t think it was for the better of the group.  I don’t want to be the one forcing anyone to do anything though”.  Andrew knew deep down that he was a leader, the group looked to him for answers and guidance.  He didn’t want to take advantage of his friends though, and always thought it best to get a consensus from everyone even if he didn’t always follow their suggestions.

         While deliberating their options one of the trip alarms from outside was set off proceeded by a loud animalistic scream.  The group knew it was a walker.  Andrew had set up fishing line attached to a set of Christmas sleigh bells.  The bells were positioned inside the safe house, while the fishing line was set about the outside perimeter of the house.  If the bells rang it meant that something was disturbing the line, often times a stray animal could set off the alarm but it was never to be assumed that it was only an animal.

         Andrew scooted back from his chair at the table and methodically walked to the gun locker.  He examined his options for weapons and decided a .22 rifle may be the best weapon.  A .22 wasn’t too loud so it wouldn’t attract attention and it could impact the brain of a walker deep enough to shut it down.  As Andrew loaded the gun Robert and James took up their assigned posts as well.  Robert was to watch the back entrance through the peek holes built into the door while James would climb the service ladder in the store room and make way to the roof of the building to scout any walkers from up high.

         Andrew walked to the front of the safe house and listened outside for movement.  He could hear shuffling around on the street, like the sound of feet scraping on the ground.  Most walkers didn’t move very fast, though he had seen some that could get up to semi-running speed.  Andrew lifted the board that was hinged over the front window.  He moved it slightly left to give him only enough room to see without being seen.  The night was still young but the moon shone enough to be able to see well in front of him.  He would be able to make out any movement amongst the dark backdrop of the city in front of the safe house.  Just as Andrew thought, it was a walker about 50 feet from the front door of the building.  It was shambling around in a twisted semi-circle looking for sustenance.  It was dressed in what appeared to be a suit and tie, something not too fancy, like what a traveling salesman would wear.  It’s left arm was missing completely and it’s face had decomposed to expose the majority of it’s skull.  The only thing that remained in-tact on it’s face were the eyes.  The eyes of the walkers were always a light blue color.  The early reports of the Event called the virus Syrafax Indigo, named aptly after the first reported case years before.  Now, standing before Andrew and his family was the cause of the effect of a strain of various illness.  As Andrew closed his peep hole and made his way to the front door, Robert banged on the roof of the safe house indicating that there were more walkers than just the one.  The men of the house had decided on a code system to warn each other of possible threats without yelling or being too loud.  Banging on the roof of the house could not be heard too far from outside.  Andrew knew that the next set of stomps on the roof would indicate just how many walkers Robert was seeing.  Stomp, stomp, stomp…three walkers.  What Andrew didn’t know was if Robert was counting the one that he had seen as well.  Just as Andrew began to assess the new situation he heard two stomps from the back where James was watching out.  Shortly after the two stomps, three additional ones proceeded.  Six walkers, give or take one.  This was more than the family had seen in a very long time.  After a few months, the undead seemed to just make their way out of the suburban area and into a more populated city zone.  It was unusual for them to be back out here, maybe they had picked up a scent, or maybe the group had just gone out on too many scavenging missions recently.

         Andrew ran to the dining area and asked Sarah to stand his post at the front door so that he could climb the ladder and meet with Robert on top of the roof.  When topside, Andrew crouched his way to Robert and looked down the horizon.  Robert pointed out the first walker, which was the one that Andrew had seen from the front door then he pointed to the other two he had seen.  None of the walkers were keen on their position, but it seemed that something had definitely drawn them to that place.  Andrew made his way to the back of the roof close to the back door where James was stationed.  He could see the three walkers that James had stomped but a movement to his left caught the corner of his eye.  He turned to see what appeared to be three additional figures about 200 feet away from their house, walking aimlessly down the sidewalk chasing something that had caught their attention.  Quite perplexed by this sudden attack on the safe house Andrew mustered the entire family inside the and around the table they were previously enjoying their meal at.  “Alright, nobody panic.  It’s been a long time since we have been visited by any of these slack-bodied freaks around here, but I don’t believe in coincidence.  This feeling that I have been having for awhile finally makes sense.”  “I am not sure I understand Andrew,” said Sarah beginning to shake.  “We have everything we need here, all the safety all the food”.  “It’s been a good place, for a good long time”, Andrew looked Sarah in the eyes.  “I know how much this place has meant to all of us”, Andrew retorted as he scanned the room looking at the wide eyes of his makeshift family.  “I don’t say this with an easy conscience but we have to go.”  James gripped Sarah’s hand as she held Mark against herself.  Norma looked to Robert for approval and Andrew looked at each of them with the most sincere and caring eyes one could possess.  “When do you want to move?” asked James.  Without hesitation or the blinking of an eye the words that came out of Andrew’s mouth surprised even him, the fore-thinking man of planning and action.  “We go now”.

Alpha-7

    It was cold outside and Sam had a terrible infection.  On his way home from work at Compro he had stopped by the local coffee shop to grab a quick warm drink and be on his way.  He had some spare change in his pocket and walked his way over to one of Cleveland's many homeless.  Bending at the waist to drop a few cents into the man's cup was the last thing he remembered.  Days later Sam awoke at the hospital to find his wife and son waiting for him.

   As his eyes opened the light of the treatment room blinded him temporarily.  Seeing his family next to him he was comforted.  The doctors told them that Sam could be released, he was tested for rabies or any type of contagious disease and was medically cleared.  The swelling from the bite mark on Sam's right hand was still dominant and caught the eye even if you weren't looking for it but the nurse told Sam that it should go down soon, and that he was allowed to go home.

   Three months later Sam lay on the floor of his kitchen, part of a broken broom handle lodged into his skull.  Sarah tried to calm Mark down.  He sat next to his father's body deliriously shaking from shock, blood pooling it's way into Mark's socks.  At seven years old Mark was not in any way prepared to watch his mother insert a wooden stick into his father's head.  Tears rolled down his face from his eyes but he didn't make a single whimper, he just sat there clutching his knees to his chest staring at what was once his dad.

   "Mark, I need you to listen to me".  Sarah was pulling together all the strength she could to not react in the same manner as her son.  "That was not Daddy okay?  He became one of them sweetie, he wasn't going after you for who you are.  He wanted what you are."  Mark nodded his head in some semblance of understanding.  "Your father loved you very much baby.  That infection made him like all those others you see on TV, but we are okay you and I.  Mommy's not going to let anything happen to you alright?"  "Okay" was all that Mark could muster, but Sarah knew he understood.  "Listen Mark, we have to move your father's body out of here.  In a few days it's going to get bad and we don't need it any worse".  Mark wiped his eyes and stood up, he looked to his mother for the next set of instructions.  "Why don't you go watch some TV honey, Mommy's going to take care of this, just go relax."  Mark agreed and walked to the couch, curling up under a blanket.  He didn't turn on the TV, he didn't want to.  All he wanted to do was to go someplace else in his mind.


   Sarah took a sheet from the linen closet of their apartment and covered her husbands body.  She then grabbed a set of dish washing gloves from the kitchen and walked back over to Sam's covered body.  Carefully she tucked the sheet underneath him and rolled him over to his back.  She then tied the sheet over his front and began to drag the body to the front door.  The apartment they lived in was not a very large one, Sam's job paid well enough to cover the cost and Sarah would work random jobs as a Temp but they made things work.  Struggling with all of her strength Sarah pulled Sam across the kitchen and into the living room towards the front door leaving a trail of blood behind following her path.  "Mark, I'm going to bring this outside, I want you to lock the door as soon as I leave and don't open it for anyone but me do you understand?"  Mark nodded and crawled off of the couch.  As soon as Sarah was outside into the apartment hallway he locked the door, deadbolt and all, and ran back to the couch and under the blanket.


   Mark was a bright boy.  He did well in school along with normal childhood issues he was overall a good kid.  Both Sam and Sarah were very proud of him and all he had accomplished.  He had longed for a brother but knew that it wasn't up to him and even though he voiced his opinion on the need for a playmate his parents still won the argument.  As he sat on his familiar couch, absorbing all that had taken place he remembered back to just three days prior when his father was extremely ill and complaining of all the pain he was in.  He had been on bed rest for the past two and a half months after trying to go back to work and displaying that he was too weak to do his job.  Dad would come home defeated, sit with Mark for a few minutes on the couch watching TV and then tell him he needed to go to bed.  A few days later Sam was too sick to even visit the doctor and would spend all of his time sleeping or resting, waking only to eat and then go back to bed.  Sam's skin had turned a pale white and his veins were beginning to show through his skin.


   Mark would stay home from school because of his father's condition and would watch the news even after Mom would tell him to turn it off.  He watched as the news began to report about a disease that was spreading faster than anything the world had seen before.  The people on TV would say things like "this makes the swine flu look like a hang-nail" or whatever that meant.  All Mark knew was that a lot of people were getting what his dad had and the world seemed to be going crazy.  Sometimes he would quietly walk into his dad's room and just watch his father struggling to breathe.  He wasn't the strong man that Mark remembered him to be, he was much smaller now, much more fragile like a broken action figure.


   As Mark sat on the couch, trying to clear his young mind of everything that had happened he heard his mother scream.  It was loud enough to startle him right off of the couch.  Mark ran to the door and pressed his ear up against it.  The door was metal and cold and made him feel like he was laying on the kitchen floor.  The walls of the apartment were not very thick and many times you could hear voices walking down the hall or people laughing above and below you.  Ever since people started going crazy Mark knew that it wasn't safe outside.  He listened anxiously as he heard foot steps running towards the door to their home on the 7th floor of the Spring Valley apartment complex.  "Mark, open the door!" it was his mother.  A child will always knows his mothers voice.  "Mark, now hurry!" Sarah rapidly pounded the door with open fists trying to rush her son into action.  "I'm trying Mom I promise!"  Mark unlatched the bolt as Sarah swung the door open almost knocking her son down.  Immediately she took position up behind the door and with all of her body weight she pressed against it to close it.  The young boy fumbled with the lock for a few seconds trying to bolt the door shut.  That's when something hit the door.  It was hard like a football player rushing a tackling dummy.  It pushed a crack into the door and frame just wide enough to reach it's hand inside.  Mark watched in complete horror as the hand groped and grabbed for anything it could reach but this hand was not like a normal person's hand.  There was skin missing from it and it's color was of a light purple like bodies that Mark had scene on TV.  As the thing pushed and struggled for whatever it's objective was it growled and and hissed like some sort of injured animal.  Mark had never seen a monster before, but he was pretty sure that this was what his nightmares were made of.

Alpha-6

“THREE SECURITY TEAMS!  YOU’RE TELLING ME THAT THREE TEAMS OF MY MEN HAVE GONE IN THERE AND NOW THEY ARE DEAD?”  The police Captain was clearly agitated at the hospital staff.

            “Sir, I don’t know what to tell you.  I didn’t send in those men and they were quite obviously not prepared to deal with what is happening inside that room” Dr. Richfield told the Captain.  Both men stood outside Philip’s room trying to figure out the best method to restrain him and keep him at bay.  The hospital room was torn to shreds, a crimson carpet of blood covered the entire floor spilling out to the hallway under the door.  Bodies were strewn about in every direction from the original nursing staff to the six bodies of police officers who had responded to the room.  Philip had killed them all and eaten a good portion of each of them.  The first team of two officers responded to the room without any type of planned response.  They had tried to grab hold of Philip upon entry but he just leapt from the ground directly on top of the first cop and bit right into his ear.  The second officer tried to pull Philip off of his partner but was unsuccessful and wound up with a scratched face and a bite to his thigh directly on his femoral artery causing him to bleed out with no help.  The hospital staff on the outside of the room was too scared to enter with just cause to what was happening on the inside.  The next four officers met the same fate as the first two.  Unprepared for Philips ability and rage, they all were now laying face down in their own blood on the hospital room floor.  After devouring his assailants Philip resumed his sitting posture and contently stared out the window at the doctors.

            “This boy has killed six of my men and some of your staff doctor, this is beyond a reason to engage with force” barked the Captain.

            “I’m afraid your right sir, I understand and we are willing to comply with whatever it is you are requesting of us” conceded Dr. Richfield.  “It’s your show”.

            The police Captain turned away from the doctor and called something in on his handheld radio.  Within minutes a team of armed officers wearing riot gear showed up outside of the hospital room.  Mr. and Mrs. Syrafax had been moved to a waiting area so they wouldn’t have to witness what was going to happen next.  The Captain briefed his team and gave them the go ahead to enter the room.  In formation the team opened the door and entered Philip’s room, the first man in took a shot from his 9mm pistol directly into Philip’s torso.  The sound was so loud that the nurses standing at the desks had to cover their ears.  Unflinching Philip jumped up from the ground and onto his bed crouched for attack, blood dripping from his mouth and the new wound in his chest.  As Philip crouched there poised to leap a second officer shot Philip with a Remington shotgun maiming his right arm.  Philip fell backwards from the impact and readjusted himself back to his feet.  Not ever seeing someone withstand the brunt force of a bullet and shotgun rounds the officers opened fire on Philip out of pure desperation.  Bullets riddled Philip’s small frame to no effect.  He began to scream like a trapped animal.  He jumped on top of the first officer and began clawing at his torso making no progress as the policeman was wearing a flak vest.  The additional officers who had entered the room, five all together, made contact with Philip and grabbed hold of his arms and legs avoiding his head as not to be bitten.  The first officer climbed back onto his feet and was able to strap Philip down to his bed with the help of the other four.  They used the existing soft restraints attached to the hospital bed and were successful in securing him.

            During all the commotion in the hospital room, with eyes affixed on the cluster of officers chasing after and shooting a small boy who had just hours before been a sick and weak patient, no one noticed the muscles of the dead nurse begin to twitch.

Alpha 5

“Hey honey!” Sarah greeted James.  “Whatcha get me?”

            “Well I got a surprise today for you, a little roast lamb and some chardonnay”

            “Really?” asked Sarah with unbelief.

            “Nah just some spam, canned water chesnuts and chunky soup”. 

            “Ah my favorite!” assured Sarah.

            “Yeah, I’m sure.  Either way we got some good eats, so why don’t you let us in and we can have a fancy dinner”.

            Sarah opened the door wide enough for both of the men to carry in their full bags.  The safe house was such a comfort to Andrew and the survivors. It was crudely decorated with things that had been found on scavenging trips and yet it was still a place he could call home for now.  There was a couch in the corner that was once possibly some sort of leather, it faced a television set and an old DVD player.  Without people there hadn’t been any cable or news broadcasts in years but they did have an unending supply of DVDs that had been released before the “Event”.  Throughout the safe house were old make shift beds, mostly old mattresses and blankets.  Without the means of running water it was near impossible to wash the sheets and clothing.  They did what they could in puddles or ponds with detergent they had picked up from different stores they looted.

            Every so often Andrew would make an attempt to travel to an area in Cleveland that he had never been to before.  He would go during the day time for maximum lighting and less surprise, sometimes he would travel on foot and be gone for hours other times he would hotwire an abandoned car that still had fuel in the gas tank.  It was difficult to drive now since most cars had been left at a stand still littering the roads and sidewalks of the suburbs and city.  When the Event first happened many people took to the roads trying to make their way out of the cities and into the rural areas.  The problem was that everyone seemed to have the same idea and many of the highways and streets bottlenecked with vehicles.  The drivers just up and decided to begin walking.  Some would be with families while others were attempting to regroup with family members.  What the survivors didn’t know at the time was that without their vehicles they were susceptible to attacks from then-random walkers.

            The rest of the safe house was used to store the equipment and food they had acquired while out on their missions.  They had an area for non-perishable food as well as cleaning supplies and toiletries.  Andrew had found a sporting goods store that sold guns and he and James used a truck to haul a gun locker into the safe house.  They cleaned the store of all of it’s shotguns, hunting rifles and handguns, about twenty five to be exact. They also had plenty of ammunition, enough to fill seven 3 foot by 3 foot boxes.  Before the Event Andrew did not have much experience with guns but he had now grown accustomed to them in the past 3 years.  For Andrew it was more fun to successfully kill a walker by using some sort of common variety household item.  Anything could be made into a weapon and Andrew had learned how to modify them.  He once killed a walker with a frying pan, using it to bludgeon the undead.  He took some satisfaction with his inventive ways to kill walkers and had plenty of experience in the art form.

            “Well it’s about time you’re back”, said Robert concerned.  “Each of your outings take longer than the last and we never know if we are going to see you again”.  “We would have been back sooner had James not wanted to talk about Jason the whole time”, retorted Andrew with a disconcerting shrug.  “You know Andrew, the night that Norma and I met you we heard Jason on the radio for just a short second”.  “You don’t know if that was Jason or not Robert, it could have very likely been a military broadcast left over from after the Event.  There were tons of those on all frequencies for a long time”.   Andrew walked over to the cabinets where the canned goods were stored and started to unload his findings.  “This one was different, the voice didn’t sound military.  It said something about being beautiful or something along those lines.  You know the military wouldn’t be saying things like “beautiful””. 

Robert was convinced that he was right about hearing Jason on the radio.  For months the group of six had seen placards and graffiti on random buildings alluding to the existence of a man named Jason.  Sarah began to tell Mark bedtime stories of a man named Jason who was going to bring everything back to normal.  Before she and Mark had met up with the group she too had heard radio broadcasts from a group of survivors led by Jason who were out west.  James was convinced that Jason was in fact Dr. Jason Cross who was one of the leading scientists working on finding a cure for the Syrafax Indigo virus shortly after the Event.  No one had ever been able to confirm who Jason was or why there were signs everywhere about him but they all had hope that Jason was where they needed to be, all except for Andrew.

“Regardless of who this Jason fellow is, or if he even exists it doesn’t matter because he isn’t here right now, and to be totally honest I am getting a little tired of all the fairy tales being told.  Our focus needs to be on us and our survival if we are ever going to get anywhere.  Now if anyone else has anything to say about Jason, say it now or let’s just drop it”.  Everyone in the safe house was silent, they knew that Andrew didn’t get mad easily and he was clearly irritated by this point.  Norma stood up from her chair and faced Andrew.  “Thank you so much for bringing us food Andrew, and you too James.  Now if you don’t mind I would like to go ahead and prepare something for us to eat.  Can we all agree on that?”  Everyone nodded in concession.