Patient Zero

by Sylvester Barzey

  Sue and Jordan's heads spun toward the last table as a muffled roar demanded their attention. Zero and an infect woman both seemed to be sedated, but the bald black eyed monster that frantically pulled at his restraints was far from tranquil. Sue had only seen those black eyes once before, on what became the worst night of her life, beating out the car accident and the loss of Sam and Dean. Those monsters were running crazed through the CDC, hunting down anything that even passed as human. She thought she would never have to lay eyes on one again, much less utter it’s name,

  “Bloodthirsty?” Sue said softly. Jordan nodded,

  “Dr. Brooks has been testing on it and the infected.” Jordan walked over cautiously toward the metal table that was violently rocking back and forth as The Bloodthirsty, started snapping it’s bloody jagged teeth behind the face mask. The blood didn’t belong to some helpless lab tech or misguided soul that happened upon this monster, no the blood that was running down the inside of his face mask was his own. He had gnawed through his own lips, looking for anything to feed the hunger that was burning inside of him. The being was no longer remotely human, it resembled something from a long lost X-files episode. Something that nightmares were made of, but Jordan got closer nonetheless. Sue’s hand automatically shot up, even with the drunken haze still hanging over her, she still had a mama bear attitude towards Jordan. Which was funny, being that Jordan took far more care of Sue than Sue did of him. Sue’s shaking hand went toward Jordan, who was staring into the black eyes of The Bloodthirsty. Jordan’s little hands balled up into a fist as he stared at the being. Sue could feel the hate pushing off of the boy and then she finally knew just what it is he was doing, just what he was planning.

  “Jordan,” Sue said softly and Jordan’s head turned to see the blonde shaking her head. Sue had a lot of built up rage and she took it out on far more things and people than she really should have, but she was a mess and people expected that from a mess. This was a planned attack on Dr. Brooks’ secret lab, something that would not go unpunished. “Jordan, lets go,” Sue whispered.

  “You go, I nee-” Jordan’s words were cut short by the click and clacks of the hidden door being opened once again. Sue’s head spun around and then she blotted forward grabbing hold of Jordan’s arm as the pair slid under the table of the infected woman. The Bloodthirsty continued snapping and pulling at the leather straps that held down his wrist and legs. He could see Jordan staring at him through the gap in the white sheet that hung down from the table. Sue’s hand came out and softly turned Jordan’s face toward her till they were eye to eye. Her finger shot to her lips,

  “Shh,” she whispered. The two sat there under the shade of the thin blood stained white sheet. Footsteps echoed through the lab, the sounds of draws opening and papers being shuffled overshadowed the slow soft breaths that Sue and Jordan were taking.

  “It has to be here!” A woman’s voice shouted.

  “Two master keys in the whole damn compound and you with your vast IQ happen to lose one. That’s like losing one half of the nuke codes,” A man said followed by laughter.

  “You’re not helping Captain Richardson,” The woman replied. The light arrogant tone that was hidden in the woman’s voice, caused Sue to close her eyes and ball up her fist. For months they were working on Sue’s ‘anger issues’ with very little progress. So far all she gained was a high alcohol tolerance and a shitty deep breathing exercise. Sue Took in a deep breath to calm her nerves because that arrogant tone could only belong to one person.

  “I’m not here to help you Dr. Brooks. I'm here to make sure you don't die before you can produce a cure for the people who matter.” Captain Richardson said.

  “A cure for the zombies, maybe-” The doctor’s words were cut off when Richardson rested his side arm on the metal desk. The heavy weight of the weapon caused it to make a loud thunk when it was dropped down on the table. Richardson’s fingers caressed the trigger of the weapon.

  “Zombies or Infected?” Richardson asked softly.

  “What?” Dr. Brooks replied.

  “Are they zombies or are they infected doctor?” Richardson asked. The weapon slowly started to rise off the table. “It’s a simple question.”

  “All I was trying to say-” the doctor’s words were cut short once again as Richardson flicked the safety on his handgun to fire. His once quiet whisper turn into a blood chilling roar.

  “Zombies or fucking Infected!”

  “What's the difference at this point!” Dr. Brooks shouted.

  “One gets a bullet and the other gets saved.” Richardson said softly. After a big exhale he finally said, “How you refer to them from this point on may or may not help me and my men sleep at night.”Dr. Brooks stood cautiously with her back to the table, sharing at the captain. The government had fallen apart, they just weren't prepared for how fast the virus could reproduce. The President was rushed off to some private bunker and the Vice President fell victim to the virus during a live press conference. The chain of command was more or less dead, what was left were people that knew more than others, people that were useful and survivors. Dr. Brooks fit in the first two categories, the captain fell into the second as did Jordan due to his special DNA markers but Sue she landed in the third category by process of elimination. So when it comes to the overall running of the compound Dr. Brooks’ two check marks gave her far more say than the Captain, but there was one unspoken category that got people like the Captain a seat at the dinner table.

  Fear…

  Those who don't have it are superhuman but those that can put fear into others, they were Gods among insects. Dr. Brooks could feel Richardson’s hand running up the side of her left leg.

  “Don't you wanna help me sleep at night Doc?” He whispered softly into her ear.

  “Stop,” Dr. Brooks said softly. Screaming wouldn't help, the walls were sound proof. The doctor knew that and he knew that. His hand came up to the back of her head and he pulled down on her bun, yanking her head back. The Captain leaned in and sniffed the doctor before smiling.

  “I can help you sleep real good Doc,” he said. A tear fought it's way from the corner of her eye and fell down her cheek. In the middle of her eyes, drowning in the tears was that large nugget of fear that The Captain was looking for, he could see it and so could Sue. She could see it all through a small slit she made in the white sheet.

  “Please stop,” Dr. Brooks said. Sue was an unreliable drunk, who lashed out randomly and frequently. Sue was broken, due to a point in her life when she had that same look in her eyes as Dr. Brooks. At one time Sue was also alone and filled with fear. Then Catherine saved her. So, without an ounce of hesitation Sue leaned out from under her table and slashed her knife at the black straps that held the arm of the Bloodthirsty at bay. With its new found freedom the creature lashed out at its original prey. Jordan's feet sprung back till his knees were pressed to his chest. His mouth opened but Sue’s hand slapped over his lips and held him tightly. She could hear Jordan’s muffled debate that was thankfully drowned out by the frantic slamming and thrashing of the Bloodthirsty. With one violent swing the hospital gurney flipped over. The long pale arm of the Bloodthirsty reached out towards Jordan and Sue. His teeth snapped back and forth with such force behind the mask Sue thought his jaw would fall off.

  “What the hell!” Richardson shouted and the frantic lashing stopped. The lab got eerily silent. Richardson’s hands fell from the doctor’s leg and he took his first few steps deeper into the lab.

  “It's the Bloodthirsty, I’ve been studying-” Dr. Brooks lost her voice when she saw Richardson lift his P320 handgun. His fingers tightened around the handle as the pale boney body started to come into his view. The creature was lying on its side, his one free arm extending under the other gurney.

  It's black eyes were focused on Richardson. A final footstep put the captain in the direct view of the Bloodthirsty. Richardson’s finger flicked the safety on his handgun causing a chilling metal click to sound. The c
reature let out an ear splitting scream and leapt forward, the metal of the gurney scrapped along the lab floor. Richardson pulled back on the trigger and sent the bullets flying into the bloodthirsty, causing it to fly back into the wall and crumble into a heap right in front of Sue and Jordan.

  “This is over!” Richardson shouted.

  “What is?” Dr. Brooks asked, Richardson turned toward her and then pointed at the bloody mess that was lying on the floor.

  “This shit that you’re passing off as science. It’s over. No more testing, no more hunting down zombies for lab rats.” Richardson shook his head and walked out of the lab, with his gun held tightly in his hand. Dr. Brooks quickly followed behind him. Jordan and Sue waited for a moment before slowly coming out from under the table.

  “So she’s what? Making The Bloodthirsty now?” Sue asked and Jordan shrugged.

  “She sure as hell ain’t curing anyone.” Jordan said. The pair walked over to Zero’s table and stared at the young man. There was a large scare that ran from his collar bone down under his hospital gown. Sue’s hand went out and she lifted the fabric to reveal the jagged scare and the deep indention in the man’s chest.

  “What the hell happened to you?” Sue asked.

  Chapter 1

  January 16, 2019 2:43 AM

  “Give me the fucking keys!” Christian shouted. His voice echoed through the empty mall parking deck. All eyes fell upon him as he stared down the salt and peppered haired old man. Their dark green eyes locked and through his gray beard Christian’s father, Jorge, smiled,

  “Wanna say that again mijo?” Jorge asked.

  “Dee, come on. We’re leaving.” Christian said softly. His hand went out toward the little boy and Dominic slowly released the car door handle and ran over to his brother’s side. The driver door slammed and Jorge stormed over to his sons. As he got closer the gut turning scent of tequila flooded Christian's senses. His father grabbed Dominic by the arm and pulled the boy back. What started as a guy’s night out at the Movie Tavern, turned into Jorge vs Jose Cuervo. Four Margaritas, five beers and three shots later, Jose was victorious. This left the Fidal boys with the task of trying to rip the car keys from Jorge’s balled up fist.

  “Oh, so you wanna play papi, now! You think you're better than me?” Jorge asked and in that moment, Christian honestly believed he was better. Christian's hands shot forward and he pushed his father back. The whole event felt like it was being recorded in slow motion, so Christian could watch it over and over again in his nightmares. The old man tripped over his own feet and fell face first into the cement. The boys ran toward their father only to be greeted by a back hand to Dominic’s face. It all stopped then. Their hearts, their breathing, time itself.

  “Mijo,” Jorge said softly. Dominic fell back into his older brother's arms. Jorge quickly stumbled to his feet, “I’m sorry-”

  “No! Not tonight! You don't get to keep fucking up and apologizing!” Christian shouted. The two stared at one another for a moment and then Jorge nodded his head. Red slowly took over Dominic’s light brown skin but the boy was more focused on the tears building up in his father's eyes than he was with his own pain. Jorge turned around with the keys jiggling in his hand. He got a few steps closer to the car before he looked back at Christian and said,

  “All the classes and all the college friends in the world isn't gonna make you better than me, Mijo.” Jorge said. He jumped into the car and started it up. The window came down and Jorge laughed, “You ain't better. No matter what you do. No matter how you dress it up, you're always just gonna be my boy.” The tires gave off a screeching sound. Christian and Dominic watched as the grey smoke filled the parking deck and their father's red tail lights blazed through the night.

  “He’s wrong.” Dominic said. Christian looked down at his little brother. His hand went over the boy’s cheek and Dominic asked, “You know that right?” Christian leaned down and turned his back toward his little brother.

  “Come on, I’ll carry you until we get to the sidewalk and then you’re walking.” Christian said with a smile. The little boy leaped onto his brother's back and the two went walking off into the darkness of the night.

  “Why y’all always gotta fight?” Dominic asked. They had been walking and randomly talking for about an hour before Dominic decided to dive head first into the real topic of the evening.

  “Because he’s a drunk.” Christian said softly. Dominic went running forward and kicked a soda can into the air.

  “He’s always been a drunk. You think you’d be used to it by now.” Dominic said.

  “That's not the kind of life I wanna get used to and it's not the kind of life you need to get used to.” Christian replied. Dominic turned around and shrugged his shoulders,

  “He loves us, right?” Dominic asked and Christian sighed,

  “It ain't about that, it's about-” Christian words were cut short by the red and blue lights that were flashing in the distance. Dominic turned around to see what had grabbed his brother’s attention. The little boy started racing down the sidewalk, Christian’s hand went out to grab his little brother but Dominic was far from his grasp. “Dominic!” Christian shouted. He chased after his brother and every few feet that Christian got, the street lights would flicker. He could see the grey hoodie swinging back and forth as Dominic raced toward the red and blue lights. “Dominic!” Christian hollered and the boy stopped at the end of the sidewalk. Christian’s hand grabbed his brother’s hoodie and the streetlights went completely out. All Christian could see was the red and blue glow of the police cars. Dominic pulled away from his brother and pointed at the twisted smoking metal that seemed to fuse with the darkness of the streetlight pole. Christian couldn’t tell where the car stopped and the light began. Yet, even with the twisted black metal and the bloody windshield, Christian knew just what he was staring at.

  “You could have stopped him.” Dominic said.

  “No.” Christian replied.

  “You could have saved him.” Dominic said.

  “No.” Christian replied.

  “You killed him!” Dominic shouted. Christian’s eyes shot open and his body was fighting to breath. He rolled over to his side in the darkness and his hand went over his sweaty chest. His heart seemed to be mirroring his orginal reaction from that fateful night. Yet, that was weeks ago.

  Just a dream. Christian thought. He swung the cold wet covers off of his legs and stood up slowly. Life was never amazing or easy for Christian and the rest of the Fidel clan. His grandpa worked hard to get Christian’s parents in America. Once they got there they all worked hard. Christian’s father had two jobs right up until his accident. Yet, a hard working man isn’t a perfect man. Jorge was held down by his vices, mostly the liquid kind. Christian asked his Mother why his father drank so much and all she could say, was ‘some people run from life in different ways.’ But no matter what, life always catches up to you.

  “Can’t sleep?” Christian’s mother, Gloria, asked. The golden brown haired woman sat at the kitchen table with her cup of coffee and her DVRed telenovelas playing softly in the background. She asked the question without even turning to look at her son. Christian leaned in the doorway and sighed,

  “Just needed some water.” He said and Gloria nodded looking over at him.

  “Seems like you got a ton of water pouring off of you.” She said. Christian looked down at his shirtless self and rolled his eyes,

  “Maybe if someone would turn on the AC-”

  “When you pay the bills then we can talk about turning on the AC. Until then I hope you don’t think I’ll be washing your sheets everyday. I ain’t done that since you were four and I don’t plan on starting back up again.” Gloria said with a laugh. Christian pulled out a seat next to her and dropped down into it.

  “I suffered from night terrors.” Christian said.

  “Night terrors? Jesus, you pissed the bed because your father let you watch that movie, with the gringo that had knives for finger
s.” Gloria replied and waved her hand putting an end to the conversation. There were two forms of waves from Gloria, one was the stop talking I’m watching my stories wave, and the other was your full of shit. Christian wasn’t too sure which he got but he went with the former and stared at the tv with his mother. The pair sat there in silence before Gloria softly said, “If you wanna talk about-”

  “I don’t.” Christian quickly replied.

  “I’m just saying, you shouldn’t just keep pushing everyone-”

  “I don’t wanna talk about it Ma.” Christian said and Gloria put up her hands and nodded,

  “Okay.” she said softly. Christian leaned back in his seat and sighed, “So, you’re going into work today.” Gloria asked. Christian nodded and then ran his hands over his face, clearly way the warm salty sweat that still clung to his skin.

  “Vince said one of the temps called out and he needs me to help Hector setup for the party.” Christian said. Gloria nodded and stood up slowly,

  “I don’t see why that fool can’t do it. He has two hands and two fucking legs like the rest of us.” Gloria said. Christian laughed,

  “He’s the boss Ma.” Christian said with a smile and Gloria quickly turned off the tv before walking into the darkness of the hallway,

  “He’s an asshole that’s what he is.” She shouted. The small wooden table creaked when Christian pushed himself to his feet. His eyes fell upon the darkness of the living room. He could make out the large hump that was his father’s chair, placed off to the corner by the window.