The Surviving Son (Valkyrie Book 2)

by Hawk, J. K.

  Daughters carry the mothers.” He paused. “For a doctor you do not

  know much.” I held back my amusement.

  “You could leave. Find a colony and make a life there, find a

  girl.” I mentioned.

  “I will not betray my people.” He said as he shuffled down into

  the dirt to rest. “In fourteen moons, my blood will be part of our

  land. Forever, I will protect my people.”

  The thought that this boy knew the exact time of his death, even

  when he has barely lived, was a tragedy in on itself. Although he

  aims to end me, I cannot help but feel sorry for him. So devoted to

  a people who are willing to execute him simple because of his

  bloodline. It amazes me that even after the world fell, mankind still

  relies on a fabricated belief in order to move on. I too am guilty of

  this. Why we find comfort in an unseen higher power is something

  I will never understand. Why can we not be happy to just be?

  * * * * * A town ravaged by flames, charred and fallen, and beneath the rubble a fire still smolders as wisps of black smoke escape through a maze of wood, steel and concrete. By the aged sight of the surface I would assume Stratton burned no more than a month or two ago, and such complete and strategic destruction could have only been produce by man. The demons of our lost world.

  What structures still standing were pot-marked with bullet holes, craters of varying sizes dotted the landscape, and abandoned fox holes and make-shift bunkers remained to tell a tale of a lost battle. But whose forces? This is the first operation by the GFS in the area, and aside from Raiders there have been no reports of any other military forces still active. I assume that Stratton had become a home base for there were no bodies left to rot. Whomever held position here had planned to stay, and cleaned up the devastation that had ensued.

  Eeamon again leads the way in silence, no longer curious of me or of my mission, paying no mind to the destruction around us. But, deep in his eyes, I can still see the hatred fueled by others before him. My attempts to reach him, to show him that I am not his enemy, have failed. The brainwashing of belief was rooted deeply in him, and there will be no turning back, no acceptance of reality. I think back on EC, but it not the way, not for him.

  As we neared the outskirts of town I noticed eerie dark shadows swirly about like leaves upon the fragmented pavement at our feet. The source soared high above us, a dozen or more turkey vultures. Their gliding presence was once a signal of carrion ahead, but these days it is the devil’s warning that Necrotic’s are close by. Eeamon was quite aware of their presence, guarded, and his hawk like gaze scanning the road ahead of us. Steph, still despondent, shuffled slowly behind us, unaware of the scavengers above.

  We followed old route twenty seven out of town and through the winding pass of Flagstaff Lake, a man made body of water that was once hailed as being haunted. Flagstaff Village lay beneath the surface in the name of progress of the twentieth century, and its former settlers are said to wander the marshy landscape in anger of their lost homes and livelihoods. However, the damn that once held back the pressure of the lake had succumb to age, it’s concrete walls and iron gates crumbled away some time ago.

  The water levels had fallen drastically since, leaving behind the peaks of decaying homes and vast stretches of muck. The Infected had wandered to far from the beaten path, and before us was a horde swamped to their wastes in the thick decay of nature, their rotting stench overpowering that of the sludge that binds them. Their presence alone has altered the pristine landscape, casting a devilish scene as if the residence of Flagstaff were slowly rising up from their watery graves.

  “Demons.” Eeamon said, pointing out over the lake. “We should put them out of their misery, Eeamon.” “No threat. Let them rot.” He muttered.

  “But what of the people they once were?” Iasked. “What if some

  of them were your people? Why let them suffer?”

  Eeamon turned back towards me, anger in his eyes.

  “Them Demons, not people.” He scowled. “You should know

  this.” His misunderstanding of the Infected weighed heavily upon my heart, if only he knew. Being sheltered from the rest of society as left him clueless to many things, including the importance of our past. The importance of our ancestors. It has become our nature, everyone within the GFS, to not allow our loved ones to remain trapped within a decaying prison. Every turned soul encountered, threat or not, shall be shown compassion and mercy.

  Mindless Prisons

  It wasn’t long after the fall, maybe only six months, when I began to unlock just a few of the secrets that Valkyrie refused to tell. She is an entity of many facets; a conqueror and a captor. She has bound every woman, man and child into a world of darkness and fear. She is the devil’s maiden, inflicting his evil and torture upon the world.

  It was around this time that coined her identification as SPV, a Sentient Parasitic Virus, and the direst of those terms was and is Sentient. In a simple test, I introduced three individual cells of Valkyrie into a solution riddled with paramecium, and the outcome was astonishing. Gazing through the microscope I watched, at first, there was no reaction. But then, within minutes, the flicker began.

  The flicker was a faint luminescence, almost purple in color that pulsed out from within Valkyries nucleus. One cell released a single minuscule flash, and another responded with two more. Then, as if rising from a muddled fog, there was a disco of lights as each cell began to pulsate rapidly and with purpose. And then, as if a general sounded off the charge, the cells began to move, slithering around like a pack of wolves.

  The three of them quarantined a single protozoa, circling and cutting it off from the rest. Once secured, they attacked, the three lunging forward and striking their prey fiercely. Of course, being microorganisms, it was a less than brutal assault, but intriguing none the less. As they came in contact with the outer walls of the harmless cell I noticed tiny, almost nonexistent nematocysts puncture the cell membrane. Like tiny harpoons, similar to that of a jellyfish sting.

  As thousands of these tendrils entered the cell they began to extract cytoplasm, as food I presumed, but also injected a cloudy toxin that I have yet been able to sample. The toxin spread through the protozoa quickly, targeting the nucleus before all else. Then, within seconds, the SPV cells moved off as the paramecium slowed and darkened like a ripened banana. Lastly, as Valkyrie sought out more prey to hunt, the first victim lit up. The same purplish hue pulsed fervently, and before I could make sense of it, the organism joined in on the hunt. Full assimilation was complete, the ‘HOW’s’ and ‘WHY’s’ will always be a mystery.

  In another test, I introduced a polio virus to the brine, only to find that SPV avoided it at all costs. It was obvious that they recognized the threat, and with self-preservation moved with calculation away from it. This was my proof that on some scale Valkyrie had a mind of its own. In this same test, I injected a living polio cell into SPV and found that it did neutralize the villain quite rapidly. However, on a larger scale I found it to be ineffective as a cure or vaccine, for the Polio killed both Valkyrie and the patient.

  And so I moved on, attempting to find other weakness that may assist in the defeat of this vile beast. There were many promising scenarios on a cellular level, but once again they became useless when treating an infected lifeform. I lost many test subjects during these trials, from infected primates, to the infected humans rounded up before the facilities evacuation. And with each failure, the world fell deeper into this pit of despair.

  One day, as I sat before my computer and watched the security feed from above, on the streets of Fort Detrick, I contemplated leaving my secured fortress just for one last breath of fresh air. A never-ending rain battered the sun-beaten pavement, and although the video was a depressing black & white, I could still see the steam rising from the blacktop. I had spent many hours watching t
he outside world decay, but on this day, the decay was also watching me back.

  There was life on the screen that had been all but vacant for months. But excitement faded when I focused on the figure to be nothing more than the wayward form of a Necrotic, wandering aimlessly in front of the lobby doors twelve stories above. Just another lost soul condemned to a life of mindless horror, and although this being was a true monster from hell, there was familiarity that could not be explained.

  In a state of dreary curiosity, I rode the turbo elevator to the surface, swaying rhythmically to the depressing music that still played over the speakers. My mind wandered, but not on anything specific, just quick thoughts of past, present and future. Mere question that would never be answered, except by my own imagination. It wasn’t until the loud and heart stopping ding of the elevator that my mind rushed back into reality. The door slid open effortlessly revealing dim and utterly empty lobby. Silent and eerie in its own rights. Across from the elevator were the large and shatterproof lobby windows, a crystalline portal out into the parking lot of Fort Detrick. The front door in the center of them was secured with two iron bars that could only be retracted by the proper authorization code, for which as far as I knew, I was the only person alive whom possessed it.

  The infliction I had witnessed on the security channel still stood before the glass panes, gazing in as if looking for something, or someone. However, now that familiarity that caught my curiosity came to full realization. It was the first time in so long that I had actually felt my heart, to know that it still existed in the depths of my own mortal prison. For a moment, I began to cry as I stared into the empty eyes of Melissa, my own daughter – yet it wasn’t her, not anymore.

  For so long I wondered what had become of her. Did she find safe harbor? Did she fall victim to Valkyrie, or to the cruelty of man? But it was on this slow and rainy day that I received my answer. However my emotional tangent was soon dismissed as I realized the absurdity of the event. My daughter should be thousands of miles away, the thought of her wandering for such a long time, through such distances, was mind boggling. And once again, even above all of my raging emotions, curiosity was enticed.

  Time began to race as I rushed back into my lab for a leash-collar, one still soiled by many of the test-subjects to be restrained within its grasp. Time slowed down once again when I returned to the lobby and struggled to coax in my child and secure her. The elevator trip back down seemed the longest and most frightening. My beautiful daughter, my beautiful monster, thrashing and snarling at me in an evil hatred, only to be kept at bay by a measly three foot pole. And although my heart pounded heavily in fear, there was also an inkling of guilt as I stared into her misty eyes, guilt of not being there for her in the beginning, for not leaving my station to rescue her. And I longed to hold her in my arms just one last time.

  I never said a word to her, not even after I secured her to an examination chair within containment chamber B. I had no plans for her, no reason for bringing her down here except for my own personal emotional selfishness. As she struggled to free herself from the restraints, I gently began to wash her face with a warm cloth, lovingly caressing the same cheek, in the same fashion, that I did when she was just a child. The tears welled up in my eyes, but I fought them back, a parental instinct to show strength for the confidence of one’s young.

  After I washed her hair, revealing her beautiful brown strands, I began to fumble through her pockets, in search for clues. Did she mindlessly wander all the way from Chicago to here? Impossible. Yet, by the state of her condition, it was apparent she had turned no more than a month ago. Her skin, although gray with black spider veins throughout, was pristine with no signs of decay. And the only evidence of her journey was a single poker chip, twenty dollars, with the insignia of the Horseshoe Casino in Baltimore, barley visible beneath a thin coat of dried blood.

  She must have sought me out after everything went to hell, ending up in Baltimore and most likely taking refuge at the casino. It is there that she must have contracted the virus, turning from my little princess into the monster now before me. But it still did not explain how or why she ended up here. It had to be fifty miles at least, and with no true purpose for making the journey, there had to be other factors that drove her there. Something guided this former shell of my beautiful daughter.

  Carefully I gave her a kiss on the forehead as she struggled to bite.

  “It’s okay, Melissa, daddy is with you.” I said before leaving the room in distraught to seek out a bottle of gin I had stashed away in my desk.

  * * * * * I spent the next two days avoiding her, drinking away my sorrow as she sat in her restraints alone and decaying. When I sobered up I had an epiphany, after all my research, there was more to discover. My daughter, the love of my life, may hold the answers too many questions. Seeking them, however, would become the most painful experience of my entire life, pain that I still feel to this day.

  When I returned to the containment chamber I found my darling girl saturated in her own putrid fecal matter. Black as the night and writhing with Valkyrie spores. Adorn in a hazmat suit I began the long and gruesome process of cleansing the chamber, being sure to incinerate anything that came into contact with the thick sludge. The whole while, Melissa thrashed against her binds, snarling like the beast from hell that she was.

  Although the sight of her in this condition breaks my heart, I feel that it is my duty to her and mankind to learn as much as possible. The generous heart that beats in her chest would volunteer in an instant for this, to sacrifice itself for others. But I still prayed that somewhere in my child’s biology are the answers that I need. Most importantly, how the virus infects and controls the brain, and what human aspect of the brain is still there, if any.

  Previous MRI’s taken on other test subjects haveshow n that most of the mind is dark and dormant until exposed to stimulation. The sight of living flesh for instance will cause the hypothalamus, the hunger center of the brain, to light up like a burning Christmas tree. It is the driving force behind the infection, and there is nothing that can smother that burn.

  For my first test, I fell back on an age old experiment which revolved around recognition. Although I was unable to use myself for this, knowing the results would be inconclusive, so I opted for the mirror test. My hope was to witness behavior that would conclude some sort of self-recognition, however my darling girl ignored her reflection and focused in on the two-way mirror that I hid behind. It was not the results I had hoped for, but did prove that the virus was able to enhance the body’s senses. Whether it was smell or sound that caught her attention, I’m not sure, but she knew exactly where I was.

  After that I knew it would take internal testing to get the answers I required, an act that crushed my heart. I began the process by injecting a sedative into my girl’s veins, although it did not completely calm her rage, it did however calm those hungry urges. With her head secured tightly to the operating chair I prepared for my next test, a detailed mapping of her brain functions.

  Carefully I shaved away her once beautiful hair, revealing the scalp and my point of entry. It seemed like hours, but only mere minutes, as I held the buzzing cranial saw an inch from the back of her head. A force repelled my blade, like identical poles of two magnets pushing each other away. But this was not some unseen supernatural force, but the power of guilt, love, and compassion that prevented me from proceeded.

  After a few deep breaths, I repeated to myself, ‘It’s only a medical training cadaver. I do not know this person.’ Which helped a little, but the sight of her blood and sound of steel against flesh and bone churned my stomach and its contents. But I endured the sickening mutilation of my daughter, slowly working around her cranium until it came to a full circle. And with a clammy release of suction, the skull cap popped off, revealing everything that made up my precious little girl. It was a gateway into what made my daughter who she was, and I was oddly infatuated with it. The blackened veins that spiders across
the ridges and valleys, the darkened gray mass, it was beauty trapped within a layer of evil.

  Gently I laid a neural-mesh across the surface, like a paper-thin circuit board with numerous plugs, for which I quickly began attaching an assortment of cables to. Instantly the computer began mapping the brain with each connection, and as expected, most of her was dark, these rest simply dim from the sedatives. The hypothalamus, however, still glowed with fiery.

  Careful and precise I strategically inserted electrical-probes into various dormant areas of the brain, ensuring that every neuron was accounted for, and barbarically turning my princess into a medical pin-cushion. With each puncture my heart leaped into my throat, and there were moments that I felt I would lose all control and break down into an emotional wreck. But, I persevered, completing all the connections and readied for the next step.

  Slowly and one by one I flipped the switch on each probe and increased the current while watching the monitor for any changes, and surprisingly there were. One by one the different parts of the brain began to light up, connections were remade, and the nervous system rebooted itself. For a brief moment I had forgotten this was my daughter before me and stood in amazement that the remarkable organ still maintained the connections with every minuscule neuron.

  “D-ddaddy?” The raspy but recognizable voice sent shivers down my spine and for a moment my heart stopped. My body turned to ice as every emotion in my soul exploded with such force that my knees almost buckled. But I quickly regained myself, concluding that I had sparked memory and speech during this process, and with a deep breath I continued to scan the monitor for more information.

  “Daddy, please make it stop!” Melissa cried, followed by uncontrollable sobs. Once I again I was frozen in fear by the eeriness in her voice. “Help me daddy!” This was no random memory, this was true, human emotion. “It hurts so bad!”

  Swiftly I moved around the chair to face my beautiful girl, although her head was restrained tightly, her eyes darted about the room, coherent and afraid. Instantly I fell to my knees, reaching up to caress her face, shuttering in uncontrollable joy and heartache. No longer did she lash out or try to bite me, no longer did she snarl like some caged animal. Instead she sobbed even louder and released a loud a pitiful bellow.