Zombie Apocalypse (Book 1): Patient Zero

by Loscombe, James

  “You’re a very interesting specimen,” Velma said.

  “A very exciting discovery,” Dr. Ingram said.

  “If we can isolate the genes that prevent you from developing symptoms then we may be able to develop a cure,” Velma said.

  “Or a vaccine,” Dr. Ingram said.

  Dale watched smiles spread across their faces. He wondered if they realised what they were saying.

  “What if I don’t want to do it?” Dale said.

  “Mr. Pope, you’re under orders,” Dr. Ingram said.

  Dale shook his head. “It doesn’t sound like there’s much army left to court marshal me if I get up and walk out of here.”

  “Mr Pope–“

  “Dale,” Velma said. She stood up and walked towards him. “You have to understand how important our work is.”

  “You’re talking about using me like a lab rat,” he said. “What if I don’t want to do it?”

  “I understand this is difficult for you to hear,” Velma said. She offered him no promise of freedom once their work was done. Dale would have known she was lying if she had. “But your sacrifice could end the suffering of a great many people.”

  “What about my suffering?” Dale said. “I don’t want to be locked up in here for the rest of my life while people do tests on me.”

  He knew it was a selfish thing to say but he couldn’t help himself. If it had been anyone other than himself in the position, then he would have wanted them to do it. What was the old Star Trek saying; ‘the good of the many outweigh the good of the few’? Something like that. Well, that was all well and good until you found yourself one of the few.

  “Your sacrifice could save humanity,” Velma said. Dale realised that she was holding his hand. He didn’t have the strength to pull his away.

  “There’s no point pretending I’ve got a choice,” Dale said.

  “We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” Dr. Ingram said. He got up and stood beside Velma. Thankfully he didn’t also try to take Dale’s hand. “That’s a choice.” His face had a hard reptilian quality to it.

  “You can save the world, Dale,” Velma said. “Isn’t that worth making a sacrifice for?”

  Dale didn’t answer. He was a soldier and he knew that he should be used to making sacrifices but he never had been very good at it. There was a vein of self-preservation that ran deep within him. Perhaps a character trait synonymous with being a virus carrier.

  * * * * *

  When he was strong enough to walk, he tried the door. Just as he had expected, he found it locked. He didn’t think he would be able to get very far anyway. He could hold himself upright but that was about it.

  A genderless voice from the ceiling said: “Step away from the door.”

  Dale walked to the window. He could see out onto the corridor and into three other rooms that looked like his but were empty. Men and women who looked like scientists walked back and forth. Bradley was sitting just outside the door. He had a machine gun on his lap.

  Dale walked back to the bed but he didn’t sit down. He leaned against the bed and began to do a form of pushup until his arms gave way and he felt dizzy. Then he climbed onto the bed and waited for his head to stop spinning.

  Bradley brought him food. Dale found out that his wife was called Carrie, his son was called Jared and his daughter was called Ella. They lived on the estate which was protected by soldiers.

  Bradley told Dale that, since the Battle of Oxford Circus, zombies had practically taken over the world. They were everywhere now.

  Dale nodded while he ate and tried not to think about the fact that he was safe, in a way. The zombies couldn’t get him while he was in the lab but that didn’t mean he wanted to be part of their tests. That didn’t mean he wanted to stay there.

  * * * * *

  Dale opened his eyes at the sound of the door opening. He hadn’t been asleep. He turned his head and saw Velma walk in with Bradley. She was wearing a lab coat and glasses.

  “How are you feeling today?” Velma said.

  Dale glared at her for a moment and then turned away without answering.

  “I’m just here to take some blood,” Velma said. “Are you going to co-operate or do I need to ask Bradley to hold you down?”

  He turned back to look at them. Bradley was twice his size and he hadn’t spent a month letting his muscles atrophy while he slept. He also had a gun.

  “Where do you want to take it from?” Dale said.

  “Your arm will be just fine,” Velma said.

  Dale turned his arm over so that the veins beneath his elbow were exposed.

  Velma came towards him and took a pair of white latex gloves out of her pocket. She put them on and then took out a needle. She uncapped it and looked up at Dale as she pressed it against his skin.

  Dale turned away as he felt the cold metal penetrate his vein. It was uncomfortable but not painful. It was over in less than twenty seconds.

  “That wasn’t so bad now, was it?” Velma said. She stuck a plaster over the pinprick hole in his arm.

  “What are you going to do with it?” Dale said. If what they had told him was true they now had enough blood to turn everyone in the complex into a zombie.

  “We have some tests to run on the virus,” Velma said. “We know it is carried in the blood but it’s difficult to get a decent sample from a zombie.” She smiled and Dale realised she was trying to make a joke. “We will also see if your blood is generating any antibodies. That’s the part that we’re really interested in.”

  Dale nodded. He wished that he could feel good about what he was doing. He wished that he could put away his own wishes and desires and focus on the fact that he was helping to save the world but he couldn’t.

  * * * * *

  Bradley watched him eat. He sat by the window without saying a word. It was nice to have company but Dale wondered if there was something in the food and he was just there to make sure he ate it all.

  “How’s Carrie?” Dale said.

  “She’s fine,” Bradley said.

  “What does she do all day while you’re here?”

  “There’s a school for some of the kids. The younger ones anyway. She helps out there.”

  “Teaches?”

  “Sometimes. She used to work in a supermarket. Not sure there’s much she can teach them.”

  “Life skills?”

  “Maybe.”

  Dale ate his food and watched Bradley right back. It was a stew of some kind. He kept finding little chunks of what he thought was meat. It tasted as if it had been sitting in a vat for days.

  “Is there a lot of kids here?” Dale said.

  Bradley shrugged. “Everyone with a family brought them when they got the call. Maybe forty under eighteen. The older ones are working, though.”

  “What do they do?”

  “They cook, they clean, that sort of thing.”

  Dale cleaned the plate and set his knife and fork together in the middle. He unscrewed the lid on the bottle of water and drank deeply. “It must be difficult for you,” he said.

  “How do you mean?” Bradley said. He frowned.

  “Being stuck here with a bunch of scientists.”

  Bradley stood up and walked towards the bed. He was obviously coming for the tray of food that was now finished but Dale felt a curious sense of foreboding.

  “I don’t follow you,” Bradley said.

  “You were infantry weren’t you?”

  Bradley nodded.

  “Well don’t you want to be out there with the rest of them?” Dale said. “Fighting zombies?”

  Bradley shook his head sadly. “You don’t know what it’s like now.”

  “Tell me,” Dale said.

  Bradley glanced at the door and then back again. At first Dale thought that he was going to tell him something he wasn’t supposed to but then he realised it was more personal than that.

  “I had to kill my commanding officer,” Bradley said. “He got bitten
and I had to be the one to put a bullet in his head. Have you got any idea what that’s like?”

  Dale shook his head.

  “We weren’t in the Battle of Oxford Circus but there have been plenty of battles since then. Maybe even bigger. I’m the only one of my squad left.”

  “I’m sorry,” Dale said. He felt hollow. He saw himself running away from Cambridge in the Underground. He saw himself setting the boy down and following Velma into the back of the van.

  “It’s better here,” Bradley said.

  Dale nodded.

  Bradley picked up the tray and carried it to the door.

  * * * * *

  They came to do tests on him every day. It wasn’t always Velma that took samples. A procession of men and women in protective clothing took blood and tissue samples from him. When they needed to do scans on his brain or organs, he was given aesthetic and knocked out. He would fall asleep in the little room and many hours later he would wake up in the little room.

  At the end of the week, Velma came to see him. Sometimes she came with Dr. Ingram and sometimes she came alone. She told him that what he was doing was important and that he should be very proud. Dale didn’t feel very proud.

  At night the room was silent. He had trouble sleeping and woke frequently. Sometimes he sat up and saw people staring at him through the large window. Most times he was alone. He dreamed of the boy with the dirty face. In his dreams, the boy was still asking for help but Dale couldn’t do anything for him.

  Bradley brought him his meals. While Dale ate, they spoke about what life had been like before the zombies. Dale began to realise that Bradley was desperate for it to be over. He had invested a lot of hope in the scientists who were doing tests on Dale. Dale felt pressure to do well but he still didn’t want to be there. They didn’t talk about the future.

  His life became a routine. They came and took samples from him and then left him alone. There was no television in the room but there was no longer any television programs being made. Dale didn’t think he could stand to see shows about what life had been like before all of this had happened.

  Bradley brought him books. Apparently there was a large library on the campus. He read thick books in a single day and gave them back to Bradley when he was done. Exchanged them for more.

  All of his meals were delivered by Bradley, who sat and spoke to him while he ate. Dale realised that he didn’t have to do that and he was grateful that he did. Grateful but still no more inclined to participate.

  The rest of his time was spent walking around the room and doing body weight exercises in an attempt to rebuild his strength. After a month, he had made some progress but he was still much weaker than he had been at his peak.

  * * * * *

  The chair hit the glass window and fell to the floor without breaking it. None of the people who were watching him had stepped away but a few had flinched. Dale shouted. Not words but pure frustration.

  He turned to his bed and pulled it apart. There was no purpose. No design. He was angry and frustrated and he didn’t know what else to do.

  Dale kicked things and sent objects flying across the room. The noise was a cacophony of bangs and squeals. He pulled a plastic monitor off the wall and smashed it on the ground.

  The people at the window continued to watch him.

  When there was nothing left to destroy in the room, he turned to the door. It was closed and he knew it was locked. He could see Velma and Harold standing in worried conference.

  Dale slammed his fists against the door. Bang! Bang! Bang! The sound echoed around the small room. “Let me out!”

  He tried the handle but it wouldn’t turn.

  Bang! Bang! Bang! “Let me out of here now!”

  There were more people crowded around the window. Five or six people deep in places.

  “Step away from the door,” the cold mechanical voice said.

  Dale turned and looked upwards but he didn’t step away from the door. “Let me out,” he said to the ceiling. “I don’t want to do this.”

  “Please, Mr Pope, take a seat by the bed and someone will be in to see you shortly.”

  “And what if I don’t?” Dale said. “You can’t keep me locked up like this.”

  “Take a seat by the bed,” the voice said.

  Dale wondered if they were pumping some sort of chemical into the room. He felt himself become calmer. He walked to the bed and picked up one of the chairs he had thrown. He sat down.

  “Thank you Mr Pope,” the voice said. “Someone will be in to see you presently.”

  Dale stared at the window where close to a hundred people were watching him. He made eye contact with them one by one and they gradually turned and walked away.

  The door opened and Velma came in. Today she was wearing a navy blue suit jacket and skirt. She had high heels that clicked as she walked across the room. She stopped in front of him and took off her glasses.

  “That was quite a performance,” she said.

  Dale stared at her but didn’t say anything.

  “Do you mind if I ask what brought it on?”

  “I don’t want to be here anymore. I want you to let me go.”

  Velma sighed. She picked up another chair and sat down opposite him. She leaned forwards. “Where do you think you’d go, Dale?”

  Dale stared into her green eyes. She had wrinkles in the corners which she had tried to disguise with makeup.

  “What do you think it’s like out there?” Velma said. Dale could smell her toothpaste. “Do you think you can just walk out of here and go back to your old life?”

  “Whatever it is it would be better than this,” he said.

  “Than what? Three meals a day, warmth, safety?”

  “You’re keeping me a prisoner,” he said. “It’s not fair.”

  Velma sighed and pinched the top of her nose between her eyes. “Do you really think I like this Dale?” she said. Her voice a whisper that gave the conversation the tone of confession. “I’m a scientist, not a soldier. I don’t want to keep anyone a prisoner.”

  “Then why–“

  “What choice do I have?” Velma said. “Try to see it from our point of view Dale. The world’s fallen, past tense, not falling, fallen. It’s probably already too late. But if we have a chance, a thin microscopic chance, then it’s you.”

  Dale looked at the window. The only face he saw there now was Dr. Ingram.

  “If we don’t have you then we don’t have anything. We might as well all put guns to our heads. So you see why we can’t let you go?” Velma said.

  Dale said nothing. After a while, Velma stood up and walked out of the room. The next day they came to take more samples and continue their tests.

  * * * * *

  Dale sat by the bed and waited for the door to open. There was no clock in his room but he had found other ways of telling the time. Bradley was late with his breakfast. The scientists hadn’t come to take their morning samples. If the shadows in the corridor got much shorter, they would be late with his lunch as well.

  He stood up and walked to the window. There was no one outside. The other rooms were dark and reflected his own sorry self back at him. His hair had grown long and his beard was a mess. He could see himself as others must see him. He was trapped in the little room.

  Dale walked back to the bed. He hadn’t seen anyone since yesterday evening. After Bradley had left with his dinner things no one had come back. He’d fallen asleep and then woken up to find everything quiet.

  It had been twelve hours since he’d last had a drink. He could survive for longer without food but he was already thirsty. He walked back to the door and tried the handle. It wouldn’t turn.

  He walked back to the bed and then straight back to the door. He was trapped in the room and if no one came for him, he would die of thirst. Dale laid down on the bed. That wouldn’t happen, he told himself. They wouldn’t leave him to die. He closed his eyes and repeated it again and again until he started to believe
it.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Dale stared at the ceiling and listened to his heart beating. It felt like an animal fluttering in his chest and he imagined a dying creature desperately clinging to life.

  He didn’t know how long he had been alone in the room. He remembered a cold night that he had spent huddled beneath his blankets. It had seemed to last for days but now it seemed distant, long ago.

  It was light now. His mouth was dry so that his tongue stuck to his pallet. He couldn’t lick his lips.

  Dale forced himself to sit up. Across the room pieces of wood lay on the floor and he tried to remember what had happened. He shook his head and the movement made him feel dizzy, lightheaded. He sat still after that.

  He had been trying to dig his way out. Or had he been trying to get to the water tank. Either would have been a good idea but neither had been successful. He remembered now. The room looked and functioned like a room in a normal hospital but it was built like a prison cell. Unless he could open the door, he was stuck there. He couldn’t even break the window. The remains of his attempts to do that were also evident.

  There was nothing left to try. Every bit of liquid in the room had been drunk. He hadn’t been to the toilet in what felt like days. Dale was reasonably sure that he was dying.

  * * * * *

  He got slowly off the bed. His legs and arms felt weak. He might have been there for hours or days. It felt like weeks. He walked towards the wooden panels that he had taken off the wall only to reveal the solid metal beneath. The room was a cage.

  Dale kicked a piece of wood and it hit the wall with a bang. There was no one else to hear it.

  The tank above the toilet was on the other side of the metal. He had emptied the bowl and refilled it until the water ran out. That had been several days ago. He wasn’t sure how long. Time seemed to have lost meaning.