The doctor arranged the vials in order. A slender, bifurcated needle syringe sat next to each vial. Joseph studied each vial clearly marked for trials. These could mean the death of innocents or life for others. Something that his team had created to help mankind continue its desperate struggle against the dead.
Dr. Hollis gave him a hopeful smile. “We have smallpox vaccines stockpiled around the country. If this works, the altered combination of the two vaccines could save a great many lives. I never thought we would even get to trials.”
“Me either.” That’s a big if.
“We are confident in our altered smallpox vaccine samples. It’s the Primus Necrovirus vaccine that has not gone through any real testing.” Dr. Hollis pointed a blue finger at each vial next to the bifurcated needle. “Based on Dr. Desai’s calculations, we are looking at one dose or point five milliliters of altered Primus Necrovirus for test subject A, two doses for B, three doses for C, and four doses for D. Do you remember the number of times needed to administer the vaccine properly?”
“I remember, Doctor. The vaccine will need to be administered with the double-pronged needle and jabbed into the skin at least fifteen times.”
Byrnes’s voice crackled and echoed through Joseph’s earpiece. “Dr. Jackowski, we would like to begin trials immediately.”
“Okay,” Joseph said softly. With a look at Dr. Hollis, he grabbed the tray. His hands shook. He didn’t think he was this scared when he had killed a man, an American soldier. How many more will you kill? How many more will the Primus Necrovirus kill? More, more, more, echoed in the back of his head like an angry raven that sat on his shoulder.
Dr. Hollis gave him a sympathetic smile that didn’t help. “I will work on preparing more of the smallpox for the next trial. Good luck,” Dr. Hollis said. He tried to give Joseph a comforting smile.
Joseph left both of the doctors as they continued the splicing work and smallpox prep for future tests. Time would forever be their enemy. Odds are, we will have to test the vaccines again and again. Joseph physically shook the thought from his head. People are going to die from this. It’s for the greater good, he told himself.
Glass doors slid open and he entered a room with four soldiers sitting on metal medical tables covered in thin, almost transparent, white paper.
He stopped when he saw his subjects. The soldiers wore only foliage-green briefs and tan undershirts. They all covered their chests with their arms in the cold room. Two soldiers in biohazard suits stood near the door with guns.
The subjects stared at him. His tray rattled in his hands. The vials rolled back and forth on the tray.
“You may approach test subject A,” Byrnes echoed. He watched through the glass wall. A young white soldier with pale skin looked worried.
“You may approach test subject A,” Byrnes repeated in his earpiece. Joseph hesitantly walked forward and set the tray on a cart next to the test subject. He picked up the needle and dipped it in the vial filled with the dual vaccine.
“Pull up your sleeve,” Joseph commanded. His lips were dry, so he licked them, but his mouth and tongue were dry too, and all it did was scratch his tongue.
The young man complied, bringing up his sleeve with his other hand.
Joseph brought the needle near the soldier, pretending the young man was a testing dummy.
The soldier flinched and Joseph stopped half-way to his arm. The soldier’s eyebrows rose on his forehead.
“Shouldn’t there be like a syringe, not just a needle?” Subject A said.
Joseph pulled back, holding the needle in the air. “No, this vaccination calls for only limited penetration into the skin by a special two-pronged needle.”
“Is it gonna hurt?” he asked.
Joseph twisted the needle looking to see if the liquid was on the tip.
“Just a small prick. Your arm might be sore tomorrow around the infection site. Eventually, it will blister and darken and you will probably have a tiny scar.” He caught himself. “I mean injection site.” Or you will turn into a monster. He gave the boy a weak smile. “Honest mistake.”
The soldier gave him a confused look. “Whatever.”
“How about you lay back on the table?” The young soldier nodded and leaned back. He laid down, letting his arm fall to his side.
Joseph gripped his upper arm, pulling his skin taut.
“Ow,” Subject A objected.
Joseph rose an eyebrow.
“Your hand is freezing,” Subject A said.
That’s because I am more nervous than a virgin on prom night. “Just relax,” Joseph said. He waited for a moment, hand hovering over his arm.
“Something wrong?” the soldier said. He looked up at Joseph, mistrust surrounding his eyes.
“No. Everything’s fine.” Joseph exhaled and jabbed the needle into the young soldier’s arm. The two-prongs entered the upper layers of his epidermis. With a firm and steady hand, Joseph pricked the skin over and over: Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. The trial vaccine entered the man. The first live human test. Joseph couldn’t set the needle back down on the metal tray fast enough. He stared at the soldier, expecting him to turn on the spot. The soldier stared back.
“You okay, Doctor?”
Joseph smiled. “Of course.” He shakily placed a folded piece of gauze on his arm and taped it down. “Keep that on for the next couple of days.”
The young man pushed on the gauze, looking down at his arm. “Ow, that does sting, doc.” The man sat up and massaged his bicep. He gave a nasty glance down the line of soldiers. “You hear that, Coyle? Your arm’s gonna hurt.” Test subject D looked even more terrified on the other end.
“You’re just messing with me, Riley,” Coyle called back.
“Quiet,” Byrnes’s tense voice boomed over the PA.
“It really hurts,” Riley joked. He shook his hand out while still holding his arm with the other.
“Shut up, man,” Subject B said.
“Fuck you, Tyler,” Riley said back. He continued to rub his arm.
“Yeah, you’re going to get us in trouble,” said Subject C.
“Quit whining, Rodgers,” Riley said over to him.
The men quieted down. Joseph administered each test subject with the proper dosages. The soldiers sat up and quietly chatted with one another as Joseph moved to the edge of the room fearing the result. Now, all they had to wait was a week.
***
Seven days later, Joseph had the men back in the room. They had been observed for a week to see if there had been any adverse reactions to the vaccines. It also gave the bodies amble time to build immunity to the viruses. Two different soldiers were in the room this time covered in their blue HAZMAT suits.
Joseph rolled his medical cart in. Atop the cart sat a shiny metal tray. Small red vials of infected blood, newly infected blood of the standalone Primus Necrovirus. This is what they had to beat. The monkeypox battle was mostly won.
Byrnes’s voice buzzed in Joseph’s earpiece like a mosquito. “Move to the next phase, Dr. Jackowski. Men, be ready for any adverse reactions.” The posture of the soldiers in biohazard suits changed. Their bodies bladed into a semi-firing position, guns pointed downward, but ready to bring up to their shoulders at any moment. The young soldiers noticed.
“Hey, what’s got you spooked, man?” Riley called over.
“Watch where you’re pointing that thing,” Coyle said to the man across from him. Joseph brought his tray over. Riley looked confused.
“Doctor, this is supposed to make it so we can’t turn Zulu, right?”
“That’s correct.”
“Then why are the guys with guns getting ready to put us down like dogs?”
Joseph looked back at the soldiers and back to Riley. “Precautionary measures.”
“Precautionary for what?”
Joseph tried to give him a smile. It came out as a grimace. “Just relax and lay back please.” The soldier complied. Good soldier. Follow orders. Die for your c
ountry.
“Make more of a fist for me, Riley.” The shoulder flexed his hand and pale blue veins began to bulge up. Joseph took the syringe and slipped the needle point into his arm. Joseph stared for a moment at the infected blood in the vial. Blood to blood contact would certainly infect the soldier and Joseph was doing it on purpose. He pushed the syringe together on itself and it closed. The red liquid disappeared into young Riley’s arm. Joseph quickly removed the damning needle and put it on the tray.
“Damn, Doc. That one was worse,” Riley said, sitting up. Joseph ignored him and moved to the next person and repeated the process all the way down the line. Within seconds of injecting Coyle, Riley, Subject A, started to yell.
“Ahhh! That hurts.” Riley started scratching his arm. He flexed his hands, rapidly clenching his fingers. He bent over double on the table. The other three watched in horror. Riley’s fingernails dug into the flesh of his arm, causing blood to spill out.
One of the guards took a step forward, raising his weapon to his shoulder.
“Stand down, Connor. This could be only a side effect,” Byrnes said through the headset.
“It burns,” Riley screamed.
Subject B, Tyler, began to shake on his table. His body convulsed, muscles spasming erratically. “What the hell’s wrong with them?” Coyle shouted. “Come on, Rodgers.” Coyle pulled Rodgers away from the others. They stood against the wall, watching their comrades change. Joseph took a step back as both the guards pointed their weapons at the men.
“Stand down,” Byrnes screamed in the headset.
Riley pushed off the table and lunged for Connor. It was fast, like a defensive end off the ball. Rounds exploded into Riley’s chest, spraying blood all over the white sterile room, but it only slowed him down. He grabbed Connor by the shoulders and the two went to the ground. Riley tried to claw his way into his biohazard suit. The other guard spun and opened up on Riley, hitting the young soldier in the head. He collapsed on top of the guard, blood pouring out of a dozen infectious bullet wounds.
“You okay?” the shooter yelled into his headset.
Connor pushed himself off the ground and stood up. He put a gloved finger through a hole in his suit hesitantly. He looked from the hole to his fellow guard. “Don’t shoot, Wood. He got through my suit, but I think I’m good.”
Tyler crashed into Wood, knocking both them back into the wall. Wood and infected Tyler bounced off the wall and went to the ground. Joseph sidestepped for the other two test subjects.
“Stay close,” he yelled at them. While the guard wrestled Tyler, a short-barreled M4 clattered onto the ground. Connor turned for them, his eyes now white. He stumbled for Joseph and the remaining subjects. Joseph clenched his fists, preparing to fight. Coyle punched Connor in the face, and both he and Rodgers kicked him down. Connor was slick with blood; he slipped and crawled across the floor after them.
“Get out of there,” Byrnes screamed into Joseph’s earpiece. “We are going to zap the whole room.”
“No,” Joseph breathed. “C and D are still good.”
“It’s a bust. We are going to put them all down.”
Joseph ran for the compression chamber. 3-7-1. Beep-beep, beep. He mashed in the code and the door slid open.
“Come on,” Joseph yelled. Rodgers and Coyle ran inside the chamber and the doors closed. A loud thud sounded on the door.
A bloody biohazard face-shield stared back at them. Chunks of flesh still stuck to the plastic. Connor pounded the glass with an open palm, his eyes white as chalk. He was joined by an infected Tyler.
The chamber on the other side opened.
“Come on,” Joseph said. They stepped cautiously into the other side. Soldiers charged into the room, all guns pointed at them. They all put their hands up. Blood dripped down their bodies and ran off of Joseph’s suit. Byrnes followed the soldiers inside.
“You can stand down. We were prepared for this. These men are under strict observation until we can sort this out. Mack, take your squad and put the infected down. Hudson, get these men out of here.” Black-clad soldiers stacked on the compression chamber.
Joseph unzipped his biohazard suit and removed his earpiece. “Those two look good,” he said to Byrnes.
Byrnes eyed the young men, wet with blood and chilled by the sterile cold, holding themselves for warmth.
“They should have already shown signs of infection,” Joseph said.
“Let’s observe them for twenty-four hours before we jump to any conclusions. I am optimistic, Doctor. We may have created a vaccine for this thing,” Byrnes said. He gave Joseph the only smile Joseph had seen him give yet. “We will revisit the issue after twenty-four hours. Hudson, I want these two in holding cells. No regular rooms like Weinroth.” The word “Weinroth” stung Joseph. “If they turn, they will be confined in the least destructive place possible.”
“Great.” I should feel grateful and happy that we did it, but I feel dirty. Yet his mind drifted to the men he had just experimented on like mere lab rats.
“Go, go, go,” a soldier shouted in the background. The soldiers disappeared inside the lab and gunfire popped off.
“Let’s go,” Hudson said. Hudson pushed Joseph in front of him and the group of nine filed into the hallway, the test subjects in the middle. Boots quickly trod the sterile white floor along with the bare feet of the remaining subjects. Down two corridors they walked until they reached a steel-doored elevator.
“The holding cells are down three levels,” Hudson said.
“It would be easier to study them here,” Joseph said.
“We do as the colonel orders,” Hudson said. The reflective doors opened. The group squeezed into the elevator. Guns jabbed every which way. Gear stuck out from their vests. The soldiers pressed close to one another and their charges.
“All I know is that it’s as deep as we can go,” Hudson said and pressed a button at the bottom of the control panel. The doors rolled shut and the elevator dropped, beginning its descent and sending Joseph’s gut lurching. Men shuffled. Boots shifted. Vests creaked and slings groaned.
After twenty seconds, there came a cry. “Oww,” someone groaned from the center of the group. Heads turned on shoulders, but there wasn’t enough room for people to turn. Joseph, surrounded by the group of large soldiers, couldn’t see anything
“Ah. My stomach.”
“Quiet over there.” Hudson pushed the bottom button again. It glowed a pale yellow, muffled by the sheer number of people in the elevator. “Wish this thing was faster,” he said with a side eye to Joseph.
“There’s something wrong with him,” came Rodgers’s voice. Joseph could catch glimpses of Rodgers’s closely shaved head swiveling back and forth in concern for his fellow soldier. “You’re a doctor, do something,” he said loudly in Joseph’s direction.
“Ahhhh,” Coyle yelled. He tottered, swinging his head wildly. Shoulders pressed into others.
“What’s wrong with him?” yelled one soldier.
“Somebody get hands on,” screamed another.
Elbows drove the subjects back into the other soldiers.
“He’s turning,” Joseph screeched, but he was drowned out by the other men.
Coyle sunk his teeth into the face of the man next to him. They were so close that it was only a matter of stretching his neck. Guns were twisted. Pinned in-between bodies, legs, and torsos, every soldier flagged the others.
“Grab him,” someone called out.
A round went off, causing a deafening explosion in the small enclosure. A soldier fell into the others, gripping his knee. Gear-clad men crushed Joseph into the corner as they tried to get away from the infected. Men screamed as they were mauled. Bodies smashed into one another, and the air felt like it was being sucked out of the small confined space. Gun smoke filled the elevator. Warm liquid spurted into the air and onto the walls as blood was freed from their greedy bodies.
“Shoot him,” screamed Hudson. He was pinned on top of Joseph, h
is arm trapped in the air, still holding his sidearm. With the blood, it was hard to tell friend from foe as the soldiers struggled with one another.
Joseph did the only thing he could do. He inched his trapped hand to the control panel. His whole body was being crushed into the wall by Hudson’s back. Hudson’s head spun back and forth as he wrestled with one of his men. Crimson blood had doused everyone. Joseph couldn’t tell who was alive or dead. Joseph smashed his finger on the panel and pressed the only other button not lit. Soldiers screamed. The elevator announced its arrival. Ding-ding.
The doors rolled open and the mass of bodies collapsed onto the floor. Guns clanked. Bodies thudded. Joseph crashed onto the floor. Men slid on the ground.
The clicking of computer keyboards stopped. Civilians and unarmed military personnel looked up from their screens. A man stood, mouth agape, headset over his ear. A woman wearing glasses peeked over her cubicle like a prairie dog. Joseph crawled away from the mass of bodies writhing in mortal combat on all fours.
“Infected,” shouted a man. People screamed as the newly infected pushed themselves upright, newfound fresh victims awaiting their bite.
STEELE
Little Sable Point, MI
The midday sun did nothing to warm him. The wind off Lake Michigan pierced his clothes like stinging bees. The sun shone down, failing its most primal task of warming the Earth as if it too had forsaken them. He paced behind the cold dead vehicles, his mind unable to rest.
The pastor had murdered his mother. Now he was coming to murder the men and women of Little Sable Point and indoctrinate their children into his corrupt church. Steele tugged at his beard as he paced, working himself up. What kind of son am I? She needed my help and I was off gallivanting the world instead of protecting her from that monster. His mind blamed him. You wanted to make peace with the man. He spit on the ground, glancing up at the flames pouring from the top of the lighthouse.
He had kept the fire lit inside the tower as a taunt to the pastor.
Kevin watched him.
“Steele. I was thinking about that speech.” Steele passed him, marching back and forth.
The Rising (The End Time Saga Book 3) Page 37