I wasn’t a scientist. I was more of a concept guy. A Systems Engineer that got hired to lead teams of scientists and whatnot. Since I had another degree in the sciencey stuff, I was pretty qualified to lead them in groups. Herds of scientists, and I was the shepherd. The job was to optimize the group, be the leader, and make sure we accomplished whatever the objectives were. Basic stuff, but a lot of large labs need people like me. Leaders, communicators, I was always the type of guy that got things done.
The job was handling this crazy virus that the agency had attempted to isolate. We were supposed to weaponize it into something that could be handled easily. The real problem was administering the virus to a subject without it contaminating anyone else. Apparently only a few samples of the virus existed. The samples had been around for decades, but kept under heavy lock and key because it was considered too dangerous to use, even as a biological weapon. It would spread too quickly. We’re talking apocalyptic stuff. The kind of virus that would make the black plague look like an outbreak of chicken pox. It didn’t really matter how you were exposed to it, just being in the same room as an unsealed sample of the virus meant a 100% chance of contracting it.
I sometimes overheard the suits that would oversee the operation talking about how the project was a descendant of something called White Coat – a long ago disbanded project that was apparently an ongoing operation and never actually disbanded at all. You know, secret squirrel stuff.
In the middle of the job, one of the contractors had some kind of meltdown. Janette's husband had left her and taken the kids. The whole thing was a huge mess. We tried to push her out of the team, but she insisted on staying. She did everything one day while the team was on lunch in the break room. Janette had hidden a test tube containing a sample of the virus on her person and snuck it out of the lab. I didn’t think of it at the time, but since we were forced to shower down and change every time we left the lab’s testing area, well, I’ll just leave that thought there. Don’t think of me as some kind of pervert or anything, I don’t really know how she got the tube out, I just know it was there. While we were eating lunch she pulled it out and opened up the vile, exposing all of us to the virus. Then she started stabbing herself in the chest with one of her pens. When the pen broke, she started using the silverware on the table.
None of us even knew what to do. We had all just come in contact with contaminant and we were going to die horrible deaths. We had only briefly been given the rundown of the effects of the virus; we didn’t even know for sure just how bad our fates really were. All we did know was there would be no going back. After what seemed like an eternity of stabbing, Janette grabbed one of the butter knives on the table and shoved it into her neck. It’s funny; watching the blood spurt from her jugular seemed to snap us all back to reality. As traumatic and chaotic as the situation had gotten, the team was pretty level headed. We were in a hidden part of the bunker, the entire base had been compromised, and we knew that everything was about to go to hell. Even if the government could somehow quell the virus, we were as good as dead. They were going to need someone to pin the whole fiasco on after all. Who knew if there was even a cure; that certainly wasn’t something my department was working on.
That was a few months ago.
I’m the only one left. The other’s died shortly after we made our escape. We came to the conclusion rather early on that there was a possibility for some humans to be entirely immune to the virus. The beauty of such an immunity was of course that any individual not affected could still carry and spread it. Even though everyone else is dead, I haven’t stopped driving. I promised them I wouldn’t. I am the new Typhoid Mary. I am the beginning of an event. I am a patient zero.
When I realized I wasn’t going through the same symptoms. When I realized that I wouldn’t be vomiting up my organs, I decided that I would head to the capital. Might as well give the boys a taste of what they made. I’ve mostly stayed off the radar. I’ve also done a good job of disposing of the others’ bodies. Not to brag, but I’ve been dropping them in water reservoirs all around the country.
I have thought a lot about the greater good. About doing myself in so that others may live. Ending my life for the sake of the many, but what’s the point? I stepped outside myself and now I’m looking at the bigger picture. If the world could use anything, it could use a hard press of the reset button. People die every day and the universe doesn’t blink an eye. But a worldwide event - that could change some things. I’ve been given the pair of sunglasses that sees what the billboards really say. I’ve been given the chance to be special. I hold a power that the world’s elite don’t even understand. I’m going to be an equalizer. The shepherd and the farmer all rolled into one.
Salt, Snow, and Something Rotten
Jessica Hopkins
The darkness envelops, the endless freezing night with winds that cut deep, the air a mixture of salt, snow, and something rotten. "You should have called me sooner," the husk of her voice amplified by hours gone by without a word having been spoken. The flight, the boat, and finally the trek by dogsled brought her to the village. Her guide had been shy, saying no more than a word or two the hours he traveled with her from the airport. She had barely gotten a read on him at all, and less from his elder tribesman that waited at the mouth of the village to receive her.
These close-knit communities, rich with centuries of heritage, folklore, and purpose were some of the least welcoming to an outsider psychic. Yet she had been summoned, begged to come and pass judgment on what was thought to be one of the greater manifestations of demonic presence in that part of the world.
She shivered, wishing she had pulled more layers of clothing on under her black, fur-lined parka. "Where is the Infected?"
Her words were translated by the Iñupiat boy that had collected her. She noticed the hesitation with which the younger tribesman spoke to his elder and she realized he was adding the courtesies she had lacked. "Forgive my abrupt nature and absence of manners. Good Father, time is of the essence."
At one time she had been fluent in the political policies but that had been many years ago and she had grown tired of bowing to pawns when her missions required her to battle with kings.
As they walked, an agonizingly slow march led by the old man, she picked up on the fear her young companion was sweating. She could feel his throat constricting, releasing, his heart pounding within his ears, the tightness of his chest. Concerned, perhaps a little curious, she tugged the glove off of her right hand and reached out to touch the small patch of flesh that had been exposed on his wrist.
"You should not have come!" His lips had not moved but she heard his scream all the same. Panic in his eyes, as they met hers, and she began to realize that something was wrong. This was not going to be a typical paranormal investigation.
"Wait, Father... Something is amiss." She looked toward her young companion as his fear grew to heights that were hard for her empathic abilities to see around. He gripped her hand in his, nearly crushing her delicate bones with his urgency.
"Run," he whispered, the words fighting to break free. "We're all Infected."
There was no time for the psychic to register shock as the boy's face began to shift wildly. The old man, no longer a man but a twisted perversion of snarl and sulfur, began to advance.
As the demons surfaced and their laughter echoed through the darkness, she ran.
Want More?
Make sure to check out Vincent V. Cava’s:
Decomposing Head: Frighteningly Funny Tales That Will Rot Your Brain
Written by the authors of several Top 100 Kindle eBooks (in their darkly comedic and satirical genres):
Here you have found a book so foul, so repulsive, so horrifying... that you will undoubtedly find yourself running to the nearest bathroom in an effort to both relieve your bowels and scrub your hands clean of its putrid filth. Though these attempts will be in vain -- just as the authors of this demented book of short stories have planned. I sp
eak of none other than the intolerable Mr. Vincent V. Cava and his dimwitted pen pal, S.R. Tooms (the pair oftentimes billed simply as Hideous and Handsome). They have finally released this humorous collection of terrifying tales, despite the bitter public outcry which demanded these pages never see the light of day... and perhaps for good reason.
Inside this tome you will read such stories as the much talked about "Gas Station Bathroom," which has been known to cause many travelers to rethink their next rest stop pullover.
The psychological masterpiece in "The Horror of Knowing" will never allow you to gaze upon your friends in the same light again.
"A Favor for a Favor" depicts an unparalleled moralistic look at the true nature of mankind -- complete with an exquisitely satisfying finish that will have you shaking your head with sinister disbelief.
These are but a few of the many finely crafted tales lurking within this haunted collection. To those of you with a few screws loose in the noggin or those with a twisted smile (and crooked tooth or two), I bid you enter this haven of horror...
Available on Amazon
Also look for “Just A Little Terrible” & “Human Flavored Dreams & Pastel Colored Nightmares” by Vincent V. Cava out later this year!
Table of Contents
Copyright
The Authors
Foreword
The Fool
The Ocean’s Cool Air
The Rekindling
On A Scottish Night
Kiss Cam
The Taxi Driver
Into The Woods
Iron Gates
Journal Of Katia Ashcroft
Little Black Bugs
The Skinless Man
Tug-Of-War
A Nice Romantic Dinner
White Coats
Salt, Snow, and Something Rotten
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Available on Amazon
Dark Tales: 13 New Authors, One Twisted Anthology Page 11