Dying to Live
Roxy De Winter
Copyright © 2015 by Roxy De Winter
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.
Cover art © 2015 by Roxy De Winter
For my mother and the friends who have supported me throughout.
Prologue
It turns out that when the world ends you suddenly have a lot of free time on your hands. Enough time to spend documenting your attempt to save it that is. When there is no more society, the demands of life seem to just stop. Even if you had a job before, there is no point in doing it when nobody is around to benefit from it. After all, zombies don’t need someone to serve them burgers or sell them iPhones. In fact, the zombies didn’t actually need much of anything it turned out. Not food, water or even oxygen. They acted out of instinct and habit, and no longer behaved as the people they once were had done. In truth, not much of humanity as we knew it remained. Just the empty, instinct-driven shells of people whose souls had long since departed but whose bodies remained to tear up the last shreds of humanity. The survivors of the dead world all had stories to tell of their lives before, each one different. The memories were a blessing and a curse; living with the knowledge that life had been better made the present seem so bleak. However, it also instilled hope of a better future and kept them striving towards it. One thing was true, though, in times like this, it didn’t matter who you had been, only who you were now.
Everyone became equal: the homeless man who had slept in shop doorways became no different to the man who had worked aside the prime minister. People had to stick together and look after each other. Rebuilding civilization and saving our race depended on it. In order to learn from the mistakes that were made, it’s important to realise that this new era of death and chaos was caused and created by human greed. The need for more, to know everything and push the boundaries, drove us to create this for ourselves. We plunged our own world into anarchy. Chaos and suffering were the consequences of countries that wanted to have the ultimate weapon, and people who weren’t satisfied with mere mortality who sought to live forever. Constant scientific research and experiments made this outcome inevitable. This work was carried out with total disregard for human life and the consequences it posed to them. One way or another, this was bound to happen.
The virus originated from the USA. A secret research lab underneath the Nevada desert had been studying alien life forms for many years. Contrary to common conspiracy theories, these beings were not killed by the government and tested on, but this is mainly because they could not die. Naturally, after discovering this, research began on how to replicate the immortality in humans. It is unknown exactly what experiments were conducted, due to the fact that once the results leaked out and created a global threat, most evidence was destroyed. The American government expected the problem could be fixed and did not want to be implicated in the repercussions when it was. However, it was pieced together from remaining evidence that some kind of biological product from the extra-terrestrial was used to create an Alien Life Serum which could bond with human cells. The problem with this was that the results weren’t exhibited in earth’s life forms the same as in the alien life forms. Humans and animals injected with the serum would experience a brief death before awaking, and the primary difference was that these subjects were much stronger, with violent tendencies and could still die but only when the brain was completely destroyed. Damage to other bodily tissues and organs would not cause death because they were no longer necessary for survival. Similarly, they did not need to eat or drink and only breathed through habit rather than necessity. For some reason the being still needed its brain, full and intact, to live. Problems arose when researchers began testing the immunity of the people and animals that had been injected with the serum. It was discovered that patients were still susceptible to most diseases and viruses. Whilst they would not die from them, the affects were still apparent. The day that ultimately turned these patients into the zombies seen wandering the streets, is the day that a particular batch of human specimens were infected with various modified and accelerated, contagious and debilitating conditions. Some with rabies, which made the subjects crazed. Others with necrotizing fasciitis, a flesh eating bacterial infection that made the subjects look and smell putrid, like rotting meat. And some were even infected with a modified strain of leprosy which made them unfeeling to pain. Other infections and viruses were more than likely used, but discovering which proved difficult since the zombies refused to halt their attempts to eat people for long enough to be examined. From survivor testimonies, we can maintain that a security lapse of some kind occurred and was to blame for the outbreak. An unknown number of patients subsequently escaped. It is presumed that as the patients attacked the staff at the facility, they spread not only the alien mutation but also a deadly combination of sicknesses and diseases. These are some of the survivor testimonies and the story of life as it came to be.
1.
‘My name is Xin Yao. I was a microbiologist from China, one of the best my country had to offer. I loved my job; I loved learning new things every day. I was excited about my current assignment, it was ground breaking and we were on the verge of something incredible. What I strived for and worked towards in my job, what I aimed to achieve, was to benefit all of mankind, and it appeared to be within our grasp. I believed that what we were doing was for the good of everyone... If I had only known the truth.
On the day in question, I had struggled to get to sleep. I told myself that it was because of the time difference and the fact that I had slept on the plane, but in truth, my mind wouldn’t rest from the nagging feeling I had about work. Work, that had me in London on a stopover from China, waiting for a flight to the USA.’
Giving up on trying to sleep, she got up and put on the hotels complementary white robe and slippers. Then, picking up a bottle of water from the mini fridge on her way, she padded over to the wall of glass windows and looked out at the view her hotel room afforded her. From this height she could see out over the streets of London, a place that she loved but would never wish to live permanently in. She enjoyed the glamour and beauty of it, and longed to be outside taking in the history of the place and sightseeing, but it also scared her. The stories she had read in the news about crime in London and the people on the streets that seemed to be in a constant hurry. She felt that the whole place could just sweep her away like a crushing wave. Xin could hardly see the bobbing heads on the street below, just the rush of cars glinting in the morning sun. She took a gulp of water from the bottle and watched the sun begin to rise.
Xin was snatched from her thoughts when the mobile phone on her nightstand rang. After crossing the room and picking up the phone, she saw that it was her boss calling. It was only 6am but the time difference meant that he had probably been waiting most of the day for a suitable time to call her. She quickly answered and tried to sound less tired than she felt.
“Good morning, Doctor Yuan.”
“Good afternoon, Xin. I hope it isn’t too early for me to be calling but I’m afraid I couldn’t postpone any longer.” Xin's attention was drawn by the thinly veiled urgency in her boss’s voice.
Dr Yuan was admired in their workplace for his ability to always be calm and soothing in any situation. A hint of panic triggered inside of her at the sound of his voice and jolted her from any remaining tendrils of sleep.
“There is a problem?” she asked. The words that came from her mouth were more of a statement than a question.
“We need you to come back to China. We have lost contact with th
e Nevada base and fear that they may be suffering difficulties that would make it impractical and unsafe for you to proceed with your visit.” She immediately sensed that he was holding something back.
The nature of the work they were doing in Nevada was revolutionary, but the early stages of the research, combined with specimens which they knew very little about, meant that most details were top secret and the results were unpredictable.
“Okay, Bao, enough of the formalities. Tell me what’s really going on.” She was now addressing him as a friend rather than an employee. During the many times they had spoken of their work, Xin had found that as her boss he spoke professionally and in the way in which he was trained to. As her friend, he was more willing to speak frankly.
“Xin, I wish I could tell you. The problem is that we really don’t know what’s going on. We lost contact this morning at approximately 8am our time. All we know is that the US government department responsible for the Nevada lab will not respond to our questions and strange things are being reported on the news stations.” Dr Bao Yuan let out a weary sigh, and Xin pictured him running a hand through his greying hair as he usually did when under pressure. “As it stands at the moment, we do not know if the problem is merely technical or much more serious. Until we have re-established contact and heard the details of their situation, your orders are to return immediately. We are arranging your tickets and you can pick them up at the airport. I’m going to have to go now; I’m being called into meeting about the situation. I will email you any further updates.”
“But what about--” Xin began to protest, but the line went dead and she knew that Bao had gone.
If Dr Bao-Zhi Yuan didn’t know what was happening, then this was not looking good. She was momentarily stunned and then something Bao had said echoed in her mind: ‘Strange things are being reported on the news stations.’
If the problem was just a communications failure, then why were the news reports relevant? She wondered.
Picking up the television remote and her laptop, Xin made her way back to the bed. She sat down, cross legged, amongst the crumpled ruffles of duvet and flipped open the laptop. As she pushed the power button and waited for it to boot up, she turned on the extravagant, wall-mounted, widescreen television. Bypassing the morning children’s shows, she flicked to the 24-hour news channel. It was showing a crying woman clutching a photo of a devastatingly young looking man. Evidently this was the main news feature: a widowed soldier’s wife mourning another casualty of the war on terrorism. At the bottom of the screen, headlines ran across the page, none of which mentioned America let alone Nevada specifically.
She left the television on, just in case, but turned her focus to the laptop. She opened her web browser and loaded up Google. If she wanted to find news specific to a certain area, Xin would have to hunt it out.
After a few moments of tapping and clicking, she found a Vegas news page and skimmed the headlines for anything relevant. It seemed that there had been a number of violent attacks. The articles were calling them, ‘drug fuelled savagery’. Reading on, she came across details such as, ‘victim was bitten with flesh torn from both her throat and arms’ and ‘attacker was shot numerous times but seemed impervious to the attacks’.
This was all Xin needed to see. She did not need her university degree to put two and two together. She closed down the web browser and shut down the laptop. The details she had been given about the project in Nevada had been sketchy at best. She did not know the extent of what was being done but she did know the nature of the specimens held there, and she knew that scientists always had questions they wanted answers to. Her keen and instinctive mind could guess that, somehow, the news reports were connected to the specimens at Area 51.
Just as she contemplated the severity of an outbreak and the consequences it could bring, her phone binged telling her she had an email.
To: Xin Yao
From: Dr Bao-Zhi Yuan
Subject: Problem
Message:
Just got out of the meeting. Situation is serious. Military are being deployed.
Return on next possible flight. Tickets are booked and ready for collection.
DO NOT proceed to USA under ANY circumstances.
Bao.
She did not reply to the email because there was no point. As a security precaution, she would not be told anything else until she returned.
Xin took a deep breath and allowed herself some time to just sit and think. She closed her eyes and massaged her temples. Last night she had lain awake unable to sleep, and now she knew why. The nagging feelings stopping her from sleeping had all been building up to this. Microbiology had always just been a fascinating subject to her; figuring out the mysteries offered to her by the microscopic building blocks of life. However, recently Xin had started to question how ethical some of the work was that was being done in her line of science. Finding ways to immunize people against illnesses and cure people from terrible sicknesses was a great accomplishment, but the recent talk of ‘super humans’ and ‘immortality’ raised questions and doubts in her mind. She saw no problem with helping people to live long and healthy lives, but she didn’t want to see her work turned on the very people she wanted to help. Diseases weaponized and chemicals used to cause damage. The notion of people being given something as deadly as immortality both intrigued and repulsed her. It meant something new and unknown to study, discoveries to be made and she could be part of that, but at what cost? Would intelligent life forms be sacrificed for our gain? Would the information gained from this research be used to corrupt rather than heal? So that presidents and kings could live forever, while the sick and poor died.
It was ironic really, that the major problem would turn out to be caused by diseases that predated the Alien Life Serum. Maybe, had she focused on fixing those things that were already wrong with the world, instead of pushing forward with fresh ideas, she would not be facing the dilemma she was now. Bao’s orders to her, were to return to China, but for what? If she went back, there were only two things that could happen:
1. This potential pandemic ended and the research picked back up where it had left off. No lessons learnt from the near catastrophic incident and no new respect for the thin line between good and bad.
Or
2. The epidemic spread, quickly, with nobody left who knew much at all about its origins. Nobody who knew enough to right the wrong and then the future of the world became wildly unknown.
With these options in mind, Xin considered what reason she had left to follow her instructions. If the outbreak died down as soon as it had begun, she still wasn’t sure that she wanted to carry on with this work anymore. If the outbreak didn’t stop, but instead it spread, then it was absolutely her job to put things right. Or at least try. What did she have to lose?
In light of those conclusions, Xin decided the only thing she could do was head out to ground zero. Go out to the source of it all, and see exactly how bad it was and what she could possibly do to help. Maybe it wouldn’t be all that bad, just a couple of subjects who needed rounding back up. There was no evidence to suggest that it would spread any further, just the logic in her head that told her it could.
With her path decided, Xin picked her phone back up. It was still open at the email from Bao. She glanced at the desk, tucked neatly in the corner of the room, where the tickets for her flight to America were already laid out with her passport. She would have to be very quick of course. Once Bao understood what she intended to do, whether he liked it or not, he would have to inform his superiors. They would probably put blocks on her passport or send someone out to collect her. If she knew Bao, though, he would expect no less than this from her and would try to buy her some time. Before she could change her mind, she hit reply and typed out one brief sentence.
‘I’m sorry, I have to.’
The response was almost immediate, but came from Bao’s personal email address rather than the monitored lab address.
‘
I can buy you one hour. Be quick, be careful and stay in touch.’
Within ten minutes, Xin had dressed and washed and gathered up her things. She had also called ahead to the reception to make sure that they had a car waiting that would take her to the airport, and to request someone to assist with her bags. She hoped that an hour would be long enough to get through the passport checks. She expected that, in all likelihood and with a situation of this nature especially, the American authorities would be called and told to look out for her when her plane came in. Conscious of this, Xin had dressed so as to draw as little attention to herself as possible. She wore a pair of simple, black jeans and a black polo neck jumper. She had even ditched her usual high heeled shoes for a more practical and sensible pair of black boots. Normally her hair would be tied back in a convenient ponytail, but any description given of her would probably mention this. Therefore, she had slipped a hair tie around her wrist for later and allowed her long, straight, chestnut hair to flow freely around her shoulders and down to her waist.
The Porter’s arrival at her door was announced by a brief knock. Xin opened the door and greeted the young man stood there. He was red headed and his curls were topped with an unflattering, maroon hat. His cheeks were marred by a smattering of enflamed acne. He smiled pleasantly and, with a polite nod, strode into the room. Xin watched as he hefted her baggage onto a trolley and wheeled it towards the door.
“Ma’am, I will pack these into the car that is waiting for you. If you make your way out after handing in your keys, all should be ready for you,” he said, before nodding again and disappearing down the corridor.
She looked around the room one last time, surveying it for anything that had escaped her scrabbling hands when she had packed. Finding nothing, she scooped up her passport and plane tickets and slipped them into her handbag. Then she hurried out of the door and down to the reception desk, where she stopped only to drop the keys into the awaiting hands of the clerk. Stepping out into the crisp early morning air, she took a calming breath and reflected upon the fact that her brief stay in London had not allowed her to taste the city properly. She vowed that one day she would return for a fuller experience.
Dying to Live Page 1