10 Days: Undead Uprising

by Jon Athan

  Monitors, glass vials, and crackling sheets of paper fell off the white desks in the workplace as the fleeing heedlessly bumped into anything and everything. The emergency exits and entrances were cluttered by the respective evacuating and arriving staff, like ants scurrying on-and-off a picnic blanket. Dr. Jorge Romero's brown cane thudded on the tile flooring with every assisted step.

  Romero pointed towards the evacuating staff in the hallway with his right hand and scolded, “You should all be ashamed of yourselves! You're supposed to be men and women of science, not feeble cowards! Should it come, you, and only you, shall be responsible for our genocide. The deaths of your children's children are in your filthy hands!” As he continued his stroll, Romero angrily muttered, “Damn cowards...”

  Dr. Romero stood a towering six-five with a hunched back. He had vibrant brown eyes and white, receding hair. He had a thick and resplendent white beard. He wore a white lab coat down to his frail kneecaps, a white button-up shirt tucked into his brown pleated trousers, and black boots. An identification badge dangled from the chest pocket on his lab coat. As the hall opened up to the workplace, Dr. Romero approached the first desk.

  Composed and determined, Dr. Stanley King neatly arranged the edges of his stack of papers and said, “It's becoming more and more difficult to work under these forsaken circumstances. This ruckus is unbearable.” As he glanced at Romero, King smirked and asked, “Don't you think?”

  Dr. King stood six-one with a lanky physique. He had grizzled hair with stubble on his defined jawline. He wore wire-framed glasses in front of his crystal blue eyes and atop his round nose. He donned a white lab coat, a white collared shirt, black trousers, and black boots.

  Romero knocked on the desk and said, “Dr. King, will you walk with me for a moment? I think I've made a breakthrough and...” He rolled his eyes as he glanced at the scampering staff, then said, “Well, I need someone that's not a coward to aid in the experiment.”

  As he leaned back in his seat and fiddled with his lanky fingers, King asked, “A breakthrough? What kind?”

  Romero responded, “A cure, my good friend, a cure. Walk with me to Experiment Room C. I'll explain everything.”

  King sighed, then stood from his seat. He hurried to Romero's side and followed his prestigious colleague's lead. Romero couldn't help but scoff as he observed the surrounding chaos in the laboratory. His once-distinguished peers tumbled over each other, fighting to either escape or stay. King looked towards each side of the hall as he proceeded. There were offices with glass walls at each side of the hallway, some vacant and some fortified. Romero stopped at the blue metallic door leading into Experiment Room C.

  Romero turned towards King and said, “Do you believe this nonsense? Can you believe these cowards dumping their duties? It's absurd. I've never been more ashamed of my peers than I am today. These... these scumbags have a duty to secure our livelihood, but they're too worried about their families and friends. They don't realize: if we fail, there won't be a human species to worry about. Their families and friends will be no more.”

  King nodded and said, “Well, I actually do. Their fear is certainly understandable with all the fear-mongering on the news. I expected better, but, well, what can you do? It's the world we live in.”

  Romero tapped King's chest as he smiled and said, “That's why I like you, Dr. King, you're not selfish. You're empathetic, but you know what's most important.”

  King furrowed his brow as he said, “About this... this cure. How is it progressing exactly? How far along are you in the experiment? What waits beyond this door?”

  Romero smiled as he looked down to his shoes, then said, “I'm doing everything I can to save us from this... this epidemic. This... this undead uprising. You know as well as I do, we only have until the 31st to accomplish our goals... to update the officials with our research. If not...”

  As Romero paused and hesitated, King interrupted with a glimmer of deviancy in his eyes, “Code: Red. Or, as our military buddies like to call it, Code: Dead. Do you really think they would execute such a... such a dastardly operation? It seems like it would help no one, really. It seems rather... counterproductive, if you ask me.”

  Romero pouted, then said, “We never know and that's exactly why we can't fail. It's all on our shoulders now. Let's stop lollygagging and get to work. Follow me.”

  Romeo pressed his badge on the bar-code scanner beside the metallic door. The protruding square opened and revealed a lens. Romero leaned down and placed his right eye in front of the ocular scanner. A beep emitted from the box, then the door slid open. Romero swayed his head into the room. King nonchalantly shrugged and entered.

  The pair found themselves in an observation room. To the left, there was a table with two drawers and a lamp on top. To the right, a hazardous materials suit dangled on the wall. The wall parallel to the entrance had a gargantuan window – the observation window. There was a secured metallic door beside the glass barrier.

  “You've got to be kidding me...” King said as he gaped through the impenetrable window in the observation room. King look towards Romero and asked, “What have you done? What are you planning?”

  King walked towards the window, then gazed into the neighboring room. The room was deprived of furniture. The white-padded walls and tiled flooring gleamed from the blinding fluorescent lights. A grunting zombie was chained towards the center of the parallel wall from the window. The undead man knelt on the floor with his arms chained to the wall and his legs to the ground. The pale-skinned zombie only donned black trousers. He was shirtless and barefooted. His head was completely shaved. His eyes were whitened and absent – a dead, cold stare lingered.

  Romero explained, “In order to find a true cure, we must have a hands-on experiment. I've created an experimental fluid with a vital essence. It'll either neutralize or cure the infected. I'm hoping for the latter. It's simple, but it's daring. I need someone to inject...”

  King waved his hands and shook his head as he said, “No, no. I'm not going in there.”

  Wide-eyed, Romero responded, “You said you were willing to aid me. You said you understood the dilemma, you weren't like the rest of them. What's the problem now?”

  King confessed, “If I may be frank, the reason I'm still here is because I loathe my nagging wife. My children are hardly any better, but they at least have some survival instinct. They don't need me to survive. I'm simply waiting until I get the call: 'Dad, mom's dead. You can come home now.' Until then, I'm staying out of trouble and I intend on staying alive.”

  Romero glared at King and said through his gritted teeth, “Christ, man, you have wasted my time. What the hell am I going to do now?”

  ***

  King sighed as he ran his fingers through his hoary hair. He turned towards the doorway, then caught a glimpse of a security guard standing across the hall. A devious grin from ear-to-ear materialized on King's face. Without a word, he glanced at Romero, then pointed out the doorway. Like a conniving child, Romero returned the devious smile and nodded.

  Romero said, “I'd say he's the perfect candidate. Let's get him.”

  Romero and King stepped out of the experiment room and sauntered towards the security guard. Like a Queen's Guard, the security officer stood in unwavering solidarity as absolute chaos erupted through the laboratory. He absently glared forward without a squirm or wiggle, despite the obnoxious ruckus surrounding him.

  The security guard stood a sturdy six-one. He had short beach blonde hair with the sides completely shaved. His crystal blue eyes glimmered with uncompromising devotion and compassion. He had a burly physique and a square jawline. He wore a short-sleeve black shirt tucked into his black pants, insulated boots, and a utility belt. The silver embroidered nameplate on his chest read: Thomas P. Davis.

  As the pair approached the officer, Romero wagged his index finger and said, “Mr. Davis, you seem to be unusually calm under these circumstances. Mayhem is surrounding you. Death is everywhere. Yet,
you firmly stand at your post. Why is that?”

  As he stared forward with his eyebrows lowered and centered, Davis responded, “I'm following my duty, sir.”

  Romero smiled as he nodded, then said, “Well, son, I have a task that requires someone of your temperament. Are you interested?”

  Davis glanced at Romero as he furrowed his brow. He scrunched his face and slowly shook his head as he said, “I don't think so, sir. I have duties to fulfill and I cannot leave my post at the moment. If you need my assistance, perhaps you can call my supervisor and...”

  Romero interrupted, “For heaven's sake, boy, we don't have time for these formalities. We don't have time to contact your supervisor and idly lounge while society crumbles.”

  King smiled and said, “Listen, Davis, we urgently need your assistance. The country needs your assistance. You will be an American hero after this. I can see you're a man of honor and courage. Please, humor us for a moment. Help us. Please.”

  Davis bit his bottom lip, then responded, “Fine. I can spare a few minutes.”

  With a jolly smile, Romero waved towards the experiment room and said, “Very well, follow me. We only require a few minutes of your time, boy, I promise.”

  The trio entered the experiment room. Wide-eyed, Davis slowly trudged towards the observation window as he inspected the restrained zombie. His jaw dangled and his bottom lip quivered from the overwhelming awe and fear.

  Romero tapped the glass and said, “Son, we need you to enter this room and test our experimental cure.”

  His cane thudded on the floor as he limped towards the desk. He shuffled through stacks of rustling papers and manila folders, then retrieved a syringe. The glass tube was brimming with an effervescent green fluid. The fizzy fluid bubbled and whirled within the tube. Romero hobbled towards Davis, then placed the syringe in his hand.

  Romero explained, “The objective is rather simple, boy. Puncture the creature's jugular with this syringe, then inject the fluid. If my research is correct, he'll either be cured or killed. Regardless, the disease will be vanquished.”

  Davis raised his brow and asked, “What if you're incorrect?”

  Romero looked towards his boots and said, “I don't suspect anything unusual to occur. Only failure and countless hours of research will await upon failure. Are you prepared for this monumental duty, son?”

  Davis sighed, then wrapped his fingers around the syringe. He inhaled deeply, then nodded towards the eager pair of scientists. Davis turned, then proudly marched towards the metallic door leading into the neighboring room. He stood in solidarity, composed and relaxed as he stared forward. Romero nodded towards Davis, then pulled the entrance switch beside the observation window. The metallic door slid open and Davis strode inside.

  As he gazed at the chained zombie, Davis murmured, “I can do this, I can do this...”

  Davis winced as the metallic door closed behind him. As he took his first step forward, he glanced over his shoulder towards the observing duo. The scientists swayed their arms towards the undead – hurry! Davis' confident strut immediately withered like a dying plant as his legs wobbled with every step. The zombie glanced at Davis, then sluggishly chomped and swung at him. Davis leaned back as far as possible while protruding his arm forward with the syringe. He carefully inched forward as he approached the slothful zombie.

  “Here it goes...” Davis whispered.

  Davis penetrated the bulging jugular with the syringe. He slowly pushed down on the plunger. The strange fluid seeped into the zombie's neck. The zombie's eyes widened as it leaned back towards the padded wall. As the syringe was emptied, Davis retracted the needle, then stepped in reverse.

  Romero carefully inspected the zombie's reaction as he whispered, “It's working... It must be working.”

  The zombie's head swayed in a circular motion, like if he were dazed by a brutish blow to the head. The undead man leaned back on the wall as he began to breathe erratically. He huffed and puffed as he gazed at the blinding light on the ceiling, then abruptly stopped. Davis glanced at Romero and King through the glass and shrugged.

  With narrowed eyes, King said, “It certainly didn't cure him, but it seems to have exterminated his aggressiveness. It has certainly vanquished something.” He placed his hand on Romero's timid shoulder and reassured, “Don't fret, old friend, you've accomplished something significant here. We can still use this to...”

  Suddenly, the zombie staggered to his feet, breaking the chains on his ankles. Davis stumbled towards the sealed door as the zombie snarled and hissed. The undead man swung his left arm, then his right. The restraints snapped off the wall with ease.

  As the zombie lifted his head, the observing trio were awed to see the test subject's eyes had miraculously changed from a milky-white to a blood-red. The zombie scowled at the trio, then abruptly lunged at Davis.

  Davis yelled, “Help me! Open the door! No! No!”

  His blood-curdling screech pierced through the soundproof room and echoed through the frantic laboratory. Romero and King watched in awe as the infuriated zombie viciously chomped and scratched at Davis' face. Davis' nose was torn off and his cheeks were savagely shredded. His clean-shaved face was ferociously mutilated by the feral mauling.

  King's bottom lip quivered as he stuttered, “Th–This is... This is reinforced, correct? It–It'll hold it back, won't it? We... We're safe, aren't we?”

  Suddenly, the zombie stood from Davis' ravaged corpse. Without a limp or stagger, the zombie confidently marched towards the window. As he glowered at the pair, the zombie rapidly jabbed and headbutted the mirror with all of his might. The skin ripped and perished from his hands and brow, revealing the bones and tender flesh on his bare knuckles and forehead.

  As he slowly stepped in reverse, Romero nodded and said, “Surely... It must hold...”

  ***

  In utter shock, the pair watched as the glass suddenly cracked from a powerful jab. The glass continued to crack with the following blows. The transparent barrier wobbled in its frame as the sharp creaking and crackling sound reverberated through the room.

  As his eyes watered, King slowly stepped in reverse and said, “Romero, the virus has mutated. We must call for help immediately. It won't hold much longer, there's no doubt about that. We must find security or... or call someone. We have to... to... to exterminate this thing before it escapes. It must be killed.”

  Romero did not respond. King furrowed his brow as he kept his eyes locked on the mutated zombie. Sweat trickled down his brow and cheeks. The rivers of anxious fluids caromed off his cheeks and dripped onto his clothing. His scrawny legs swayed as he slowly teetered in reverse. He cautiously looked towards the room's only exit. To his utter surprise, Romero stood in the hallway with his finger on the scanner.

  Wide-eyed, King stuttered, “Wha–What are you doing?”

  Romero loudly swallowed, then responded, “I'm sorry, my good friend, but... I need to buy some time. I need to report our findings. If we get through this apocalypse, your sacrifice will not be forgotten.” As he pressed the emergency seal button on the scanner, Romero looked to his feet and said, “I'm truly sorry.”

  As he scowled, King roared, “No! You can't do this to me!” He lunged towards the door, but to no avail – his fate was sealed with the lock's reassuring click. As he sobbed, King stuttered, “You–you–you... I–I...”

  Suddenly, the observation window shattered. The glass fragmented into dozens of shards as they scattered on the floor. The red-eyed zombie agilely leaped through the opening. He growled at King, then lunged towards him with a vicious chomp. Romero tightly clenched his eyes as the spine-tingling shriek echoed through the chaotic laboratory.

  Romero hurriedly doddered towards the nearest desk around the corner. As his remaining peers frantically searched for a cure, oblivious of the massacre in Experiment Room C, Romero stumbled to the floor. He grabbed the sleek black landline phone on the desk, then crawled underneath the sturdy table. Romero muttere
d indistinctly as he dialed a number and swiped at the anxious fluids trickling from his raised brow. The phone bounced on-and-off his scarlet ear as he anxiously awaited a connection.

  A man with a raspy voice answered in a dubious tone, “Dr. Romero? Dr. Romero, is that you?”

  “Yes, yes,” Romero answered as he anxiously glanced towards the hallway. “Listen, Hill, the experiment has gone...”

  The man interrupted, “Sorry, the Secretary of Homeland Security is not available at the moment. We're dealing with a crisis of our own.”

  Wide-eyed, Romero asked, “Who am I speaking to?”

  The man responded, “This is John Jensen, I'm Mr. Hill's assistant at the moment. We've been patiently waiting for your call. We are in dire need of a status update. Do you have anything of importance to report?”

  “I need to speak directly to Kenneth Hill immediately,” Romero explained. “It is of utmost importance. I was told to contact him and only him. Please, put him on the phone.”

  Jensen demanded, “Tell me everything now. We don't have any time to spare. I'll convey the message to Hill when he is available. I guarantee that. Do you have a status update? Have you found a cure or vaccine for the outbreak as you were instructed?”

  Romero nervously chuckled as he glanced at the hallway, then explained, “We have a situation of our own, Jensen. Due to a flaw in our experiment, the reanimated test subject seems to have grown exponentially in strength. The laboratory has been compromised. The specimen is secured for the moment. If it escapes, there's no telling what will happen...”

  After ten seconds of dead silence, Jensen warned, “If you don't kill it, we'll be forced to eliminate your workplace. Whatever has happened, make sure you terminate the specimen and do not, under any circumstance, allow the infection to spread. Do you understand?”

  Romero sighed, then said, “I fear it's too late for that. The specimen, a security guard, and now a scientist have been infected. With their combined strength, they'll break through the door or the glass in a matter of minutes. Security is... I don't know, the place is in utter disarray. You won't be able to firebomb us in time, either. I'm sorry.”