The Zombie Effect

by Sampson, Roger

  CHAPTER 13

  Back in the lab, Beth and Jack sit at a console. Jack types a mile a minute. “What are we looking for?” Beth entreats.

  “The Beryllium is shielding the bacteria. Preventing us from fighting it,” Jack replies.

  “Right? So?” Beth asks again.

  “So we can’t just fight the compound. We also have to treat the Beryllium, which can kill her even if we could get to the compound. Any remedy is useless without removing the Beryllium from the equation,” Jack summarizes. Beth thinks for a long minute.

  “So we need a corticosteroid. We have Prednisone,” she advises. Jack looks up and smiles at her.

  “Let’s prepare a cocktail of the Ciprofloxacin and Prednisone,” he says.

  “But we don’t know what that will do to her,” Beth warns.

  “We know what will happen if we don’t,” replies Jack solemnly. Beth stares at Jack for a second as the revelation of Rachel’s certain death hovers over her like a dark cloud. It’s not fair. None of this is fair. Rachel has always tried to help people. Beth ponders these dark thoughts as she strolls over to the medicine cabinet.

  Logan waits impatiently at the reception desk at the front entrance of the institute. He is clearly agitated and has no intention of being passed off today. It’s not that he takes Cliff’s avoidance tactics personally. He’s a professional after all, and doesn’t subscribe to such child’s play. It’s rather that he has powerful forces who expect results from him. He can’t deliver those results from Barrister without Cliff. So here he waits.

  Cliff enters the wing. “Cliff,” Logan calls out. Cliff stops in his tracks as if caught with his hand in the cookie jar. But now is not the time to give Logan a guided tour. Not yet. They aren’t ready.

  “Logan. I don’t have an appointment on my schedule,” Cliff responds.

  “I don’t need one. Do I?” Logan inquires, as if a foregone conclusion he was welcome whenever he felt like being there. Cliff scratches his head and looks up at Logan. The liberties Logan enjoys taking with him feel more like a dick measuring contest to Cliff. As much as he loves a good power struggle, he has bigger fish to fry.

  “What can I do for you?” Cliff asks as if he doesn’t already know the answer.

  “Need an update,” Logan answers matter of fact.

  “On?” Cliff stalls. Of course he knows what the man wants. He always wants the same damn thing. He’s like a dog with a bone. Logan, sensing the stall tactic, simply raises his eyebrows through a wry smile and shrugs his shoulders. Cliff sighs. “I’m working on it,” he replies coldly.

  “I need more,” Logan persists. It’s not the first time they’ve danced this number either, but Logan does tire of it.

  “That’s all I have right now,” Cliff counters.

  “You think I can go back with “working on it”?” Logan warns. He doesn’t want to threaten Cliff, but he’s not taking the subtle direction. So a more direct approach is needed. Cliff, receiving the message, and the pressure that goes with it, stares into Logan’s eyes.

  “I just need time,” Cliff requests with a hint of humility in his voice.

  “That’s a luxury neither of us have,” Logan replies, keeping the pressure on. Cliff knows he can’t run or hide from this. But if he tells Logan about ZnMBe now, it could blow up in both their faces.

  “I’ll get you something today. I’m just dealing with something right now. OK?” Cliff pleads.

  “I’ll wait,” Logan replies, not sure whether Cliff is actually being honest or has developed new stall tactics. Either way, he’s not leaving until he has something to take with him. Cliff glares at Logan. Logan reciprocates. Cliff’s face softens a little. He nods and smiles and heads for the opposite wing. Logan, not trusting a word that comes out of his mouth, watches him leave. Today he will watch him like a hawk.

  Jason enters the break room. It’s a relatively quaint fifteen foot square space outfitted with a pair of couches, another pair of chairs and a mini-fridge. The room is empty. Jason counts his blessings as he staggers up to one of the couches and plops down on it. He feels drained like he felt the last time he had the flu bad. Why he feels like that now, he doesn’t know. Flu doesn’t just hit you out of nowhere. But he’s not feeling well at all. He looks up at the fluorescent light above and it hurts his eyes. He grimaces. He lies down on the couch and turns his back to the center of the room. Maybe he’ll feel better after a nap.

  Jack and Beth stand next to Rachel’s bed. Her swollen eyes inch open through her pale complexion. She’s clearly on death’s door. Jack prepares a syringe. Cliff enters the room and sees them. His eyes brighten a bit at the hope that Jack found a solution. “We got something,” Jack advises. Cliff’s eyes widen with hope.

  “What?” he asks eagerly.

  “We can’t fight the compound without addressing the Beryllium. It’s killing her as much as the bacteria,” summarizes Jack.

  “So we’re using Prednisone to counter the Beryllium,” Beth continues. Cliff studies Beth’s face for a moment, letting the information settle and she nods approval.

  “What will that do to her?” Cliff inquires. Jack stops for a moment.

  “Don’t know. But what choice do we have at this point?” Jack counters. Cliff stares at the syringe like it’s the worse decision he’s ever been asked to make. He has no idea how they even got to this point. He puts on rubber gloves and holds out his hand. Jack slowly places the syringe in his hand and proceeds to the end of the bed.

  Cliff holds the syringe for a long moment. How he wishes there were someone who could tell him the right thing to do to save Rachel’s life. All his knowledge and training, all the lives he’s saved, all of his contributions to humanity.None of that will save the love of his life. All their hopes pinned on a solution of poisons that would likely kill a normal person. The insanity claws at Cliff’s mind. He takes Rachel’s hand. “You ready?” he asks weakly. Rachel smiles at him as the tears stream down her cheeks. She nods, being unable to speak the words. She knows full well what happens if this doesn’t work. She always thought she’d grow old with Cliff. Tomorrow is never guaranteed for anyone, but she never believed the end would come like this. She’s not ready. But here we are.

  Beth and Jack watch the monitors closely. The compound races through her body killing the last of the remaining healthy cells she has left like a wave of locusts consuming everything in their path. Her vital signs slow to dangerous levels on another monitor. Rachel squeezes Cliff’s hand. If this is the end at least she will be with the love of her life. She has that solace at least.

  Cliff injects the solution into Rachel’s arm. He holds her hand and looks deep into her eyes. He sees the best moments of their marriage flash before his eyes. Through everything they’ve been through, he’s never loved her so much as he does right now. Jack and Beth continue to monitor the data. The micro camera picks up the solution meeting an infected cell. The bacteria portion writhes. The Beryllium separates from the cell. Her pulse rate increases. Cliff smiles. It’s working. He looks at Jack. Jack smiles back like watching the end of a tense movie.

  Just as Jack looks back at the monitor a group of infected cells surround the solution that was attacking the other infected cell. Jack’s smile immediately disappears. More infected cells attack. The solution dissipates and the infected cells march on. Rachel’s breathing labors as if the compound is punishing her for the intrusion. Cliff looks at Jack in desperation. “We’re on the right track. We just need time to get the solution right,” Jack assures Cliff.

  “Get on it,” Cliff commands. They all know they’re running out of time. They have no time to waste.

  Just as Jack heads out of the room, an alarm squeals from the monitor over Rachel’s bed. Her vitals are crashing. Jack whips around in horror. Rachel convulses violently. Cliff slams the emergency button on the wall. “Code blue! Get in here!!” Cliff screams. A nurse rushes into the room with a crash cart. Beth and Jack leap out of the way. Beth covers her m
outh. Cliff opens Rachel’s gown, preparing for defibrillation. Rachel convulses again. Jack grabs Beth, who is sobbing. She holds Jack tight and turns her face away from the horror of watching her mother dying.

  The vitals monitor suddenly falls quiet. Rachel’s body relaxes and slumps. Cliff breathes hard, trying to find a way to alter this outcome. His eyes fill with tears. His face suddenly hardens. He grabs the defibrillator paddles. The nurse widens the gown opening. Cliff charges the paddles and places them on Rachel’s chest. Rachel’s body jumps but no change in the vitals monitor. Cliff resets at a higher voltage. He paddles her again. No change. Cliff battles shaky hands to up the voltage a third time. Nothing. God damn it, why isn’t this working? he roars in his mind. He drops the paddles and begins CPR. The nurse pumps oxygen into Rachel’s mouth at regular intervals. Cliff continues to pump. Flatline. Tears stream down Cliff’s cheek. Jack looks at Cliff somberly.

  Over two minutes have passed. Cliff tirelessly continues CPR. His brow sweats. Jack slowly approaches Cliff and touches his arm. Cliff ignores him. Jack touches him again. Cliff shrugs him off. The nurse stops her oxygen hand pump and steps back from the bed. It’s no longer about trying to save Rachel. Now they need to bring Cliff back. The tragedy of losing the love of your life is one that not many can comprehend. It’snot something that can be explained. It can only be understood through the experience of tragedy. One that no human should have to endure. At least not like this. “Daddy,” Beth pleads through tearful sobs. She approaches him and puts her arm around his waist. Cliff feels the warmth of his daughter’s love through her tender touch and stops pumping Rachel’s chest. He lets out a light sob of his own. The nurse closes Rachel’s gown. Cliff turns and embraces Beth. They stand and cry in each other’s arms.

  Jack eyes the vitals monitor. The heart is not beating, but it’s not completely flat-lined either. The smallest of arrhythmia identifies some kind of activity through the cardiovascular system. Jack inspects Rachel’s eyes. Cliff turns to address him. Rachel’s eyes begin to change color. They are reddening ever so slowly. “Cliff,” Jack calls. Cliff looks. “We need to secure her,” Jack continues.

  “What?” Cliff replies, not catching up to the logic.

  “The animals,” Jack reminds Cliff. It clicks that whatever killed the animals has killed Rachel. And like the animals, it’s not done yet.Shit is getting real. Cliff glares at Jack. His rage over this compound grows worse by the minute. Beth’s jaw drops.

  Cliff checks the vitals monitor. “Hold on a minute,” he spouts. He races to the corner of the room where a case rests on a table. He opens it and removes a syringe and grabs his phone. He goes back to Rachel’s bedside. He injects the syringe into Rachel’s arm. “Micro camera. Let’s have a look,” Cliff says. He launches an app on his phone and logs in. He selects the serial number for the camera he just injected into Rachel’s arm. An image immediately reveals circulation in Rachel’s body. The compound is feeding off healthy cells in tissue. Cliff shoots a look at Jack. “Observation Room B. It’s Plexiglas and we can monitor her from there,” Cliff commands with a renewed sense of purpose. Jack isn’t following what has him in this condition, but he knows they need to secure Rachel quickly. Jack grabs a strap from under the bed and he and Cliff strap Rachel down. Everybody leaves the room as Cliff and Jack race the gurney toward the secure wing. Cliff has a plan.

  CHAPTER 14

  Observation Room B is a twelve by twelve foot square room equipped with a crash cart, hospital style plugs for power, oxygen and the like and several monitors. It is normally used for test subjects in drug trials or addicts undergoing treatment. They never dreamed it would be used for this.

  Cliff and Jack roll Rachel into the room and connect the monitors. Jack checks Rachel’s eyes. They are glossed over and deep red. They stare at nothing. “It’s started,” Jack states. Brainwaves dance in a creepy pattern on the monitor. Cliff ties down all of Rachel’s limbs. Both stand at the foot of her bed. They stare at her in a surreal desperation that this new discovery could destroy everything they love. For the first time Jack experiences the sting of responsibility of bringing this nightmare into their lives. In reality, none of this is his fault. But this family took him in as their own, or at least made him feel that way, and he feels a responsibility to make it right. The only question is how.

  “Are you sure the bacteria is keeping her brain alive?” Cliff asks randomly. Jack looks at Cliff, wondering where he’s going with this.

  “Yes,” he replies. Cliff looks at Jack with determination in his eyes. But not the determination of his mentor. The determination of a desperate man.

  “Then maybe we have time,” Cliff surmises. Jack’s eyes widen. “If there’s any chance, we have to try,” Cliff continues. It suddenly hits Jack. Cliff hasn’t given up on trying to save Rachel. He can’t blame him. And who says they can’t? Nobody has ever seen this material before. If there is a chance, he’s right. They have to try.

  Jack nods and places his hand on Cliff’s shoulder. Rachel’s eyes open and she raises her head. But it’s not Rachel. Not anymore. At least not the Rachel they know and love. She struggles with the restraints as she glares at both Jack and Cliff like they’re on the menu. Jack and Cliff share a look. “Hurry,” Cliff pleads. Jack exits.

  Cliff realizes there is nothing he can do for Rachel right now. But he may be able to help Jack. He can collect the research from his office. Any new information could possibly help. He exits the room and snakes through the hallways to the Admin wing to his office.

  He enters his office. Logan is perched at Cliff’s desk typing on his computer. “What are you doing?” Cliff interrogates. Logan picked a fuck all day to get nosey.

  “Catching up,” Logan retorts. Cliff picked a fuck all day to get secretive. The sport of their sparring has become rather entertaining over the past few years but this is different. This could get ugly.

  “I told you I’d have something for you today,” Cliff quips.

  “I got tired of waiting,” Logan shoots back. Logan knows he’s holding back and he’s not going to have any of it.

  “It’s not ready yet. We don’t know what it is yet,” Cliff concedes. He’s taking a big risk, hoping to get Logan on his intellectual side. Not today though.

  “No matter,” Logan fires back.

  “I have something to deal with. I need the day,” Cliff pleads.

  Logan tires of Cliff’s stalling. He looks out the window and sighs as he prepares to lay it on the line for Cliff. “You ever read Edmund Burke?” Logan asks passively. Cliff feels it coming like that moment your stomach contracts itself right before you vomit. He sighs. Logan continues, “Eighteenth century political theorist and Irish member of English Parliament. A brilliant man. He supported the American War of Independence from England. Yet he’s more remembered for coining the phrase “don’t bite the hand that feeds you”.”

  “It killed Rachel,” Cliff reveals. He didn’t want to have to go there, but Logan left him no choice. He needs time to save her if he can. And Logan painted him into a corner. But if this revelation buys him enough time to save Rachel before Hicks blows it all up, it’s worth it.

  Logan turns back to Cliff and studies his face for honesty. He would never have expected that string of words to escape his lips unless he was desperate or it was true. Maybe it’s both. Logan takes a second to process the information. He concludes Cliff wouldn’t bring the love of his life into the conversation unless it was true. He sits on the couch. “I’m sorry. You have until the end of the day,” Logan agrees. Of course, he still doesn’t have a clue what they’re dealing with. And Cliff is thankful for that. But at least he got what he needed.

  Rats with red glazed orbs snake their way through the sewer beneath the institute. Like a battalion of mini soldiers marching in formation, they turn corner after corner. Other rats, mice and even insects avoid them. There is something wrong with these animals. A noise from around the next corner catches the rat’s attention and they
peek carefully. A middle-aged homeless man snores loudly atop his box bed. The rats glance at one another.

  Back in Cliff’s office, Logan waits patiently for word sitting on the sofa. His phone beeps an announcement that he’s received a new text. He pulls the phone from his pocket. He launches the message. “FROM NORRIS: Update?” reads the message. Logan types his response “Have a potentially lethal bio-weapon, waiting for files”. The response from Norris: “Need to brief SECDEF soon”. Logan responds: “Copy. I’ll move it along”. Even though Logan may not agree with everything that happens in his job, he is loyal to a fault and a good foot soldier. But he wasn’t lying to Cliff. Shit really does roll downhill. He knows Cliff needs time, but that is a luxury neither of them have any more. Logan stands and exits the office.

  In the lab, Jack types hard on a computer console while Beth sits nearby on a chair. Her shrunken appearance and blank stare catch Jack’s attention. Monitors flash images and information and Jack takes notes. He looks at Beth again. He can’t concentrate on his work. She’s hurting and he needs to address that now. He’s not used to this feeling. He actually loves her. He doesn’t really know her that well, but it doesn’t matter. She may not love him back. But he loves her. And right now, she needs him.

  He rises and strolls to her and sits next to her. “Hey,” he says consolingly.

  “Hey,” she replies in a broken voice.

  “How are you holding up?” he inquires gently.

  “Not well,” she replies weakly. Jack hasn’t been in this position. He wants to make her feel better. He just doesn’t know how.

  “We’ve not given up on her,” he assures her. Beth shoots Jack a WTF look.

  “Jack. My mom is dead. My dad can’t handle it. It’s not going to be alright. It’s never going to be alright again. I know you want to appease my dad. But at least I haven’t lost my grip on reality. Fuck!”she exclaims. Jack looks at her in shame. Stupid move he thinks to himself.