“Wow. That’s pretty interesting,” Nora responds as she raises her brows. “Our first initial speculations were cave man. Some did say Neanderthal while others said Cro-Magnon man.”
“They were a fascinating part of our history. One interesting theory is that they practiced cannibalism and ritual defleshing.”
Nora cringes, her face contorting in such a manner you’d think she smelt something foul. “Cannibalism and defleshing? Sounds gross and barbaric if you ask me?”
I nod in agreement.
“Defleshing, or excarnation, refers to the practice of removing the flesh and organs of the dead before burial, leaving only the bones. Defleshing may be precipitated through natural means, involving leaving a body exposed for animals to scavenge, or it may be purposefully undertaken by butchering the corpse by hand.”
Nora cringes and takes a big gulp. Her eyes, and disgusted expression, land upon Tak.
Thump... thump... thump.
The deep, forceful pounding on the observation deck’s glass rattles us. We shudder as Nora mutters some choice words. She glances up.
“Yes!” Nora’s eyes narrow, and she tilts her head slightly to the right as if she is straining to listen. Her mouth moves through the mask, but no words are spoken. She removes her hands from the rubber gloves and walks around the chamber.
Intrigued, I do the same and turnabout. I look up to the observation deck. There’s a frantic man dressed in a white lab coat waving his arms. His words are muffled, but the terror painted on his face conveys his message. He points to the room that we changed in, then disappears.
Befuddled, I glance over to Nora who is just as confused.
“What was that all about?” I inquire.
“Not sure.” Nora heads for the room with the medical garments and supplies. She opens the door to the manic doctor.
His breathing is labored, sweat rushing down from the top of his scalp as he glances over his shoulder.
Nora lowers her mask and grabs him by the arms. She shakes him, trying to hone his attention. “Scott, what is it?”
Shaken, he replies, “There’s been an incident in the medical ward.”
CHAPTER FIVE
“What sort of incident?” Nora sternly inquires. He doesn’t respond at first. “Scott, what happened in the medical ward?”
“Dr. Stevens. She attacked Dr. Johnson! Bit him on the forearm. She took a good chunk of flesh off.” Scott shudders and gazes at us with a worried look.
I remove the surgical mask, and pull back the white hood of the coveralls I am wearing.
Nora’s eyes fall to the floor as Scott glances at me.
I gulp. “How did she bite him? I thought they subdued her? I saw them giving her a shot or something.”
Scott’s voice trembles with fear, terror thick on his face. “We did. Gave her a general sedative that should have calmed her down. It momentarily did. Dr. Johnson was adjusting the restraints on her wrist when she woke up and attacked him.”
Concerned, Nora glances back up. “Where is Dr. Stevens now?”
Scott recoils. “Gone.”
“Gone!” Nora snaps. It sounds like a hoarse growl. “How is she gone? We’re surrounded by subzero temperatures and snow in Siberia.”
“After we pulled her off Dr. Johnson, she got free from us, and ran out of the medical ward,” Scott says. “It was like she was a wild animal or something. We tried to speak to her, and calm her down, but it was like mentally, she wasn’t there anymore.”
Nora retorted with a heavy sigh. “Is anyone looking for Dr. Stevens now?”
“Yes. The security team is trying to locate her as we speak,” Scott replies. “We didn’t want to raise any alarms until you were informed first. That’s why I rushed right over to tell you.”
I scoff. “Seems like a perfect time to inform everyone that there is a crazy person loose, who is apparently trying to bite people.”
Nora shakes her head in disbelief. She pulls back the hood to her coveralls and removes them. I follow suit. We dump them in the medical disposable bin in the far corner of the room before coming back to Scott.
“Take me to Dr. Johnson, now,” Nora flatly orders.
We trail Scott out of the lab and make for the medical ward, our pace quick, our nerves on edge from the rattling events retold.
My eyes cut from left to right at the workspaces we walk past. There is no sign of anything wrong. The lab techs and or base personnel continue with their daily duties. Perhaps, for now, that is for the best.
Scott opens the door for Nora, who storms into the medical ward like a woman on a mission. He still has a naked fear lingering in his eyes, and every sound causes him to tremble as I walk by.
I feel out of my depth with what’s transpiring. My anxiety wants to burst from every pore in my body, but I maintain—more so for my own sake than anyone else’s.
Nora approaches a man resting in one of the beds. His right forearm is being examined by one of the other doctors as he glances up. “Dr. Johnson, how are you feeling?”
“I’ve been better.” He winces, grinding his teeth against one another as the wound is dabbed with a damp cloth. He reaches for the mangled flesh, but refrains from touching the irritated exposed tissue.
I grimace at the grisly site, and divert my eyes.
“Why did Dr. Stevens attack you?” Nora asks.
He shrugs. “No clue. After administering the sedative, she calmed down. She was still restless, but otherwise stable. She had been tugging at the restraints with her wrists and loosened them some. I went to tighten them back down and she attacked. Caught me off guard.”
Dr. Johnson pushes the doctor’s hand away from the wound. “That will do. Just wrap it up and give me a shot of antibiotics. I’ll be fine.”
“I want you to stay here for observation. Have some tests run to make sure there is no infection,” Nora says.
“There is no need for that. I’m fine, really. I’ll take some pain meds, and sleep it off in my quarters.”
Nora places a restraining hand on his left shoulder. Dr. Johnson narrows his gaze in her direction, apparently annoyed by the contact.
“Dan, I insist.”
“Fine.”
“I’ll be back later to check on you.”
Dr. Johnson nods as the wound is wrapped with gauze.
Nora takes me by the elbow and pulls me back out into the hallway. She approaches one of the security guards standing watch, leans in close, and whispers in his ear.
Their conversation only lasts a few seconds before he offers a simple nod and walks away. She turns to me.
“What the hell is going on here?” I bark. She hushes me with her hand, and motions for me to keep my voice low. “Is this some sort of viral outbreak or something?”
“I don’t know, but I’d rather not be throwing those words around since we don’t know for sure what it is we are even dealing with.” Nora’s eyes shift from right to left as she leans in closer to me. “We have Dr. Johnson under observation, and the security team is searching for Dr. Stevens as we speak. They are the best Vincent’s money can buy. They will find her shortly. I’m certain of that. In the meantime, I’ll inform all research staff to keep an eye out for Dr. Stevens. If anyone spots her, they will be directed to contact security immediately. Ultimately, we need to maintain composure, and not allow this situation to get any further out of hand than it already is. That will only compound the problem.”
“Well, I just don’t want to see things get any worse. We’re not exactly in a position to handle it if it does.” I snidely remark.
“Agreed, that’s why, right now, we need to maintain control of this situation,” Nora rebukes. “Once we locate and retrieve Dr. Stevens, hopefully, we’ll be able to figure out what is going on.”
I place my hands on my hips, and cock my head to the side. “I surely hope you’re right about all this. I didn’t sign up for any of this crap.”
I have been told that when I get stressed, I
become a smartass, times ten. That ugly side of me is oozing from my pores, no matter how hard I try to stop it.
Nora is not the least bit appreciative of that fact. She purses her lips tightly, and rolls her eyes. “When’s the last time you ate something?”
“Not sure. Maybe when I was on the plane. Why?” I inquire.
“Go to the cafeteria and get some food. Take a shower, sleep, work on your initial assessment for Vincent, I don’t care. Just relax. Can you do that?”
I sigh.
“Fine.”
CHAPTER SIX
What the hell have I got myself wrapped up in?
The words are a broken record spinning aimlessly around in my head as I try to dissect the strange and horrid events. I’m not really in the mood to eat, all things considered, but Nora is right. My blood sugar could be running low, causing me to act more irrational that I normally would. I need to focus. Regain my clarity.
My gaze stays fixed to the floor as I make my way to the cafeteria. Fortunately, the halls are mostly empty. If eye contact is made with the few people walking them, I simply nod, and keep moving. I like to think I’m a pretty personable person, but right now, I want my space.
The commissary is brightly lit; the strident shine from the lights above beam off the slick white floor. Three rows of plastic white tables are lined up in perfect order, black folding chairs pushed underneath their tops with only a single person occupying them.
She keeps her head buried in the half-eaten sandwich resting on her plate. She doesn’t even acknowledge my presence, which I am grateful for.
It’s dead quiet, except for the refrigerated units to my right that are filled with various drinks and food. My stomach rumbles, and beacons me to feed it.
Surrendering to the growling in my stomach, I walk the periphery of the space, and make for the food. My eyes take in each machine’s offering. Filled with various sandwiches, salads, fruits, and other packaged meals, there is no shortage of options.
Not wanting to waste my time of having the eatery mostly to myself, I grab a ham sandwich and a cup of peaches. I add a bottle of water, and make for one of the empty tables away from the lone woman.
I set my food down, and pull out the chair. I plop down onto the chilled steel seat, which sends a shiver through my body. There are rounded cups, in the centers of each table, filled with utensils wrapped up in napkins. I retrieve one and dive into my food.
Lost in my own thoughts, I take a hearty bite of the meaty sandwich. It actually tastes relatively good for being prepackaged. Bite after bite, I consume every morsel of my sandwich before I notice the woman approaching from my left.
She’s on the opposite side of the table with her plate clutched in her hands. She stops, and turns toward me. “May I?”
I wipe the bread crumbs from my lips and nod.
She sets her plate on the tabletop and pulls out the chair in front of her. I finish chewing what food remains in my mouth as she sits down. She discreetly looks to her left, toward the entrance of the commissary, and leans forward.
In a low, hushed tone, she whispers. “Have you seen it yet?”
Confused, I respond, “Excuse me? Seen what, exactly?”
She clarifies. “You’re the fresh blood Vincent hired to come up here to help examine that thing we pulled from the ice, right?”
“If you mean Tak, then yes.”
She scoffs and shakes her head, acting as though she is disgusted by my words. “I can’t believe they named that thing.”
“You mean the Neanderthal? It is a person.”
“So, that’s what it is, then? A Neanderthal?”
I confirm with a nod.
“You’re sure about that?”
I place the napkin on the table, and grab my bottle of water. I unscrew the cap, and take a gulp of water to wash the sandwich down. I refrain from responding until my mouth is clear. “From my initial exam, that is my current assessment.”
The woman’s eyes continually shift toward the entrance of the commissary. I glance back over my shoulder to see what keeps stealing her attention. There is no one present.
She focuses her suspicious eyes back onto me. “You’re one of those people who digs stuff up and analyzes it, right?”
“Yes.”
“What is the possibility of a virus, contagion even being able to survive within its host? Namely, being frozen? Is that plausible?”
I set the water bottle down and lean forward. Although sounding and acting paranoid, she has managed to peak my interest. “If you’re asking is it possible for a virus or some sort of contagion to survive for thousands of years while frozen, it’s certainly within the realm of possibility. Although, to my recollection, I have never heard of a confirmed case before. Why do you ask?”
Her eyes grow big, and she nods as if I have just confirmed something for her. She leans in closer.
“What if Dr. Stevens was infected with some sort of virus that has been lying dormant for thousands of years in that ice man? What if, whenever he was excavated and brought here, we released that toxin somehow?”
I train a tentative ear toward her. She has peaked my own curiosity. “What happened to Dr. Stevens, exactly?”
The woman throws her hands into the air, her hushed tone increasing as she speaks. “She went all crazy! Tore a chunk of skin out of one of the other doctors’ arm! Last I heard, the security team hadn’t located her yet. Nora has informed everyone of the situation, but I feel that things are more dire than any of us truly realize. This is much more than someone just losing their mind and going mad.”
I cock my head slightly to the right. “And you saw this happen?”
She nods. “I was in the lab across the hallway when it went down. It happened so fast. She attacked him like a ravenous animal. At first, I didn’t believe what I saw was real.”
I lean in closer, prodding her for more details. “Why would she have attacked him in such a manner? Even more so, how would she have been exposed to any such possible virus? Tak has been frozen the entire time, hasn’t he?”
I can see the gears turning inside her head as she nibbles the ends of her nails. “True. When he was excavated, he was kept inside the ice while transported here. After arriving, and securing him in the lab, they began thawing him out within the chamber. There was a breach in the housing shortly after the process. Faulty seal or a malfunction of some sort. Dr. Stevens was the only one present when it happened.”
My own curiosity is getting the better of me. “Wasn’t she wearing her safety garb? Gloves, mask, and such?”
“She had everything on except for a mask. It wasn’t required since he was secured within the chamber. She got blasted in the face when the seal ruptured. Only lasted a few seconds before she sealed it. What if, after exposure, it somehow mutated inside of her? Couldn’t a virus from that time period affect us differently than people from that era?”
“Like I stated earlier, it is possible, but there’s never been a documented case before, as far as I know.” I sit back in my chair with my cup of fruit in my hands. “These are some bold claims to be making. Nora hasn’t mentioned anything about a containment breach. Neither has Vincent. Have you brought up these concerns with them?”
A sour look floods her face. From her disgusted reaction, she doesn’t appear to think highly of them.
“Nora already knows about the breach. After the incident, she had the lab sterilized per operating protocol. I imagine Vincent was informed, but can’t say for sure. You know he’s wanting to bring that ice man back to the states within the next few weeks, right?”
I shrug. “That could be accurate. I’m not sure.”
“That’s the last report we received.” She removes her nails from her mouth, and mashes her finger against the tabletop. “I’m not crazy. Like you said, all of this is plausible.”
A noise to my right captures her attention as two members of the security team enter. Her breathing escalates. Her chest heaves. She quickly s
tands up and grabs her plate from the table.
“Hopefully, I’m wrong about all of this. If I’m not, then god help us.” She lowers her head and makes for the trash can in the corner of the room. She dumps her plate and leaves the commissary.
And me with a lot more to chew on.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Strange. Every minute that ticks by seems as though this place is being driven to the 6th dimension of hell, and I’m stranded for the ride.
At least, at the moment, I do not have to concern myself with a chance encounter with Dr. Stevens. The security team is currently tracking her in another portion of the facility, after reports of her being seen in the area.
But still, the frantic woman’s concerns, nay borderline ravings, bore deep into my mind.
Although I am not a viral scientist, or whatever they are, it is true that certain diseases can linger within and around a burial site if the conditions are right. It’s also hard to gauge how people would respond to being exposed from an unknown toxin.
As much as the woman’s hypothesis of a thousand-year-old virus being kept in a dormant state, and altering Dr. Stevens’s condition after exposure is a huge leap, I can’t dismiss it for some reason.
The woman’s words of dread and utter doom gnaw at me like a festering parasite going deeper into my skull. I’m lost in thought as I make my way to the storage room. The meager blanket they have provided has done little to keep me warm.
I try to debunk everything that she said. Find ways to say it isn’t what she says it is.
To be honest, if I hadn’t seen the bite mark, and Dr. Stevens’s strange behavior before the incident, it would be much easier to do so. I continue chewing on the idea, trying to digest this outlandish and twisted picture she has painted for me.
The more I dwell on her words, though, the more I want to get what I need, and retreat back to the safety of my room.
The squeaking sound of my shoes against the tiled floor play as background noise to my thoughts. I’m submerged in “what if” scenarios that have me distracted from my surroundings.
Dead State: Catalyst (A Post Apocalyptic Survival Thriller, Book 0) Page 3