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.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Sunday, January 31, 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
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".
"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".
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