Domain of the Dead

by Iain McKinnon

  “These will be the new arrivals, Mr. Patterson?” the woman standing in the infirmary surmised. She wore a white lab coat with a light blue checked blouse underneath and a dark knee-length pencil skirt. Her hair was a deep brown and worn loose around her shoulders. Sarah guessed she was in her mid thirties but would never voice her guess openly. She knew how the Rising could add years. She tried to imagine how she herself looked, gaunt and drawn from the lack of food and the stress of being imprisoned by masses of rotting flesh.

  How much older than twenty-four must I look? Sarah wondered.

  “I’m Dr. Robertson. The Captain asked that I give you a look over. I hear you’ve been on the mainland all this time. That can’t be true, can it?”

  “It is,” Nathan said.

  “I’ll leave you people to it and I’ll pop back down in say...” Patterson studied his watch as if he were waiting for the second hand to reset so he could synchronise his timing. “Forty minutes?”

  “That would be fine,” Doctor Robertson said. “Well, you look in good shape but there are a few tests I’d like to perform to see—”

  “To see if we’re infected?” Nathan cut in.

  Doctor Robertson frowned. “I was going to say to see if you’ve suffered any effects of malnutrition. But yes I will also be checking you for infection.”

  She went to one of the cupboards on the wall and started laying out the medical equipment she needed. “I’ll be running a full blood work to check for a variety of communicable diseases such as Typhoid, Tuberculosis, HIV, Hepatitis, and of course the big Zee.”

  Sarah gave Nathan a warm smile and nodded her head in silent solidarity with him. It had been a paranoid question Nathan had asked but she could understand why he was feeling uneasy. Yes they were safer than they had ever been in that warehouse, but this was an unfamiliar environment for them, populated by strangers they didn’t know if they could trust. Couple that with the day’s events and it was easy to empathise with Nathan’s wariness. Things had moved too fast to be comfortable yet.

  “Okay, lets start. Who wants to go first?” Dr. Robertson asked, an empty syringe in hand.

  Sarah stepped up to the examination couch. Dr. Robertson motioned for her to sit down.

  “Do you have any pre-existing conditions I should know about? Pregnancy, diabetes...” Dr. Robertson stopped herself. “Of course not. Any insulin would have gone off by now.” She stared off into space for a moment. “I don’t suppose that even if you are pregnant you’d know for sure at this point either?”

  Sarah felt her hand against her emaciated belly and realised she’d unconsciously placed it there. There was no chance she was pregnant but the doctor’s comments had made her think of Sam. The excitement of a child being born had galvanised the survivors cooped up in that warehouse. It had filled them all with a new vigour as everyone rallied around Samantha and Ryan. It had turned all too quickly to horror. Clutching her own stomach, Sarah remembered her friend, baby in her arms, as she lay on the warehouse floor and bled to death.

  “You know it’s been years since I last had to do a physical.”

  Doctor Robertson’s voice jerked Sarah back.

  “But it’s still ingrained. Like I was still...” Doctor Robertson sighed. “Well, that was a lifetime ago.” She assembled the syringe. “Do you have any symptoms or ailments I should be made aware of?” Without waiting for an answer she placed a stand on the workbench, ready to accept the vial.

  “No, not really,” Sarah said hesitantly. There were a number of health issues, but she felt none of them were serious enough to disclose. Nothing that mattered.

  “Someone mentioned this was a research ship?” Nathan said.

  Dr. Robertson rubbed antiseptic on the nap of Sarah’s elbow. “That’s right. Professor Cutler and I are investigating the walking death.” She took the protective sheath off of the needle. “You’ll feel a small scratch.”

  “Walking death? Is that what it’s called?” Sarah asked. She knew placing a name on it would dispel the supernatural associations. If it could be analysed and categorised and labelled, Sarah told herself, it could be fought. It could no longer be the wrath or God or the work of the devil or any of those evangelistic reasons that were so prevalent at the beginning. The sanitization of the condition brought her comfort, but it couldn’t dispel the menace.

  Dr. Robertson looked up at the ceiling and made a soft humming noise. “Ambulatio mortuus.” She shook her head. “No, it would be Mors. Ambulatio Mors.” She tutted and went back to Sarah’s arm. “Doesn’t have much of a ring to it, but no it doesn’t have an official name yet. Hasn’t been catalogued.”

  “So you haven’t worked out its taxomity?” Sarah asked.

  “No, it’s been illusive. We think it might be a satellite RNA virus that pairs a yeast, but it’s been impossible to positively identify and group it.”

  “What does that taxi thing mean?” Jennifer asked.

  “It means they can’t name it until they know which family it belongs to,” Sarah explained.

  “Like Ryan and Sam’s baby?” Jennifer asked.

  Sarah was startled by Jennifer’s simile.

  Jennifer elaborated, “The baby didn’t have a name because they didn’t know who its family was?”

  “No, it’s different.” Sarah thought to stop there but she knew Jennifer’s curiosity would elicit more questions. She decided not to condescend to the young girl. “No, that’s different. We knew who the baby’s family was. It’s just that Ryan was too sad to give the baby a name after Sam’s death.”

  Jennifer’s surrogate brother, Nathan, stepped alongside Jennifer and placed a hand on her shoulder.

  Doctor Robertson waited for an appropriate break in the conversation before giving Sarah a slight nod and placing the needle in her arm.

  Sarah watched as the tip of the needle pushed against her skin until its sharp point poked through.

  “What have you found out?” Sarah asked.

  “Oh, quite a bit.” Dr Robertson smiled as she pulled back the core of the syringe. “Where would you like me to start?”

  Sarah was transfixed by how red the freshly drawn blood appeared behind the plastic of the syringe. Her mind went back to Sam. She remembered her blood being darker, almost black.

  Nathan ushered Jennifer to a small plastic seat before leaning against a workbench, arms folded across his chest.

  “What’s causing it?” he asked as if he were the grand master of an inquisition.

  “The contagion has proven difficult to pin down. It has a number of unique properties which has meant we have had to study it indirectly,” Dr. Robertson said as she labelled the vial of blood.

  Jennifer swung her legs as she perched on the edge of the plastic chair. Bored by the conversation that excluded her, she intently watched her red and white trainers as they swung in and out of view behind her knees. Peeking her head further out and clutching the sides of the chair, she could just about see her feet swing through the full arc. Slipping forward, she decided to test her dexterity. She brought her trainers as close to the ground as possible without touching. Tongue between her teeth in concentration, Jennifer tried to trail the lopsided lace on her left trainer along the floor without scuffing the sole.

  Dr. Robertson took the freshly drawn blood and placed it on the work station.

  Jennifer hopped out of her chair and rushed up to the workbench intrigued, by what Dr. Robertson was doing.

  “Careful honey,” Dr. Robertson said as Jennifer peered at the ruby liquid clinging to the sides of the vial.

  Jennifer looked in awe at the container of blood.

  “Have you never seen blood before?” Dr. Robertson asked.

  “Not like that,” Jennifer said, her eyes fixed.

  “It has always looked like that,” Nathan said.

  “No,” Jennifer said, frowning at him. “In jars.”

  “Do you want to be a doctor when you grow up, honey?” Dr. Robertson asked.

&nbs
p; Jennifer looked at her with a blank expression. “Um...”

  Dr. Robertson tried to tease an answer from her. “You know, when you’re older? What job would you like to do?”

  Jennifer looked back over at Sarah as if she needed translation.

  Sarah let out a gentle huff. “It’s just…”

  “Just what?” Dr. Robertson asked.

  “We never spoke about things like that,” Sarah said, shaking her head. “There wasn’t that kind of talk in the warehouse. We were shut in. Surviving, that’s all. We didn’t think we’d be rescued. We didn’t dream anything like real life was left.”

  Dr. Robertson cast an eye over Sarah and Nathan. She said, “Oh, I see. Well, you should start thinking about it soon. If you don’t focus on a job then they’ll draft you into the forces like your new friend Bates was. You’d better start looking at your C.V.’s. If you don’t have a specialty they can use, it’ll be manual labour for you. Or worse: the army.”

  “Who’s they?” Sarah asked.

  “What do you mean the army?” Nathan asked.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Dr. Robertson said. “I didn’t mean to scare you. You see, what’s left of the world is under martial law. It’s complicated. The world’s governed by a mixture of sovereign nations and military overlords. It’s kind of like the UN, but with teeth.” Trying to continue with the medical, Dr. Robertson fastened a blood pressure cuff around Sarah’s arm. “It’s not that bad. Most of the western powers have kept their military in check. There are a few warlords who’ve carved out their own island territories, but they’re kept in line by the nuclear powers.”

  “You mean they’ve actually threatened to use the bomb?” Sarah was appalled that after all that had happened, people were still willing to kill each other.

  “It’s no threat,” Dr. Robertson said.

  “What do you mean?” Nathan asked, though he had already guessed the answer.

  “When the shit hit the fan, nuclear power plants started blowing like popcorn,” Dr. Robertson said, taking note of Sarah’s high blood pressure but deciding to ignore it given the events of her rescue. She unhitched the black fabric cuff. “Add to that the bombs China dropped on her own cities, no one’s concerned about the environmental damage a couple more Nagasaki’s or Hiroshima’s will make.”

  “The government would actually do that?” Sarah asked.

  Dr. Robertson lowered her voice, almost as if she were afraid of being overheard. “Look, there was this strike in Russia a year or so after the Rising. There was this copper mine middle of nowhere in the Arctic circle. The miners wanted better conditions.” She scoffed and huffed under her breath, “Better conditions. As if there were better conditions.” Then she continued, “There was a riot when the local military tried to force them back to work. Things got out of hand real quick.”

  “They were massacred!” Sarah gasped.

  “Worse,” Dr. Robertson said. “They won. They took over the whole town.”

  “Did they get nuked?”

  “No, the copper mine was too valuable. No, the military council assembled a multinational force. Unlike the UN where they’d get a few countries to participate, they got soldiers from every military left on the planet. Remember how they used to say on MTV how the revolution would be televised?”

  Sarah and Nathan nodded.

  “We found out the suppression would be too. Every man, woman and child were made an example of. Seven thousand people and it felt like you saw every one of them die.”

  “That’s horrific,” Sarah whispered.

  “All for the survival of humanity,” Dr. Robertson said, “The government sent a message. Everyone plays their part.”

  “Or else,” Sarah added.

  “The supply ship gets here next week, so you’ll need to have had some thoughts as to what you want to do, or what you can do by the time it arrives,” Dr. Robertson said.

  Sarah and Nathan looked shocked.

  “It’s not that bad really. It’s no worse than working for a faceless corporation nine to five. If you’ve got some practical skill they need you’ll get your pick of posting.”

  “And what if we don’t?” Nathan asked.

  “Then you’ll be assessed for a suitable manufacturing, agricultural or military role.” Dr. Robertson saw how worried the pair looked. “You know, like working in a factory or a farm or something like that. Look, I’m sorry if I’ve panicked you. It’s really not that bad. All the work people do now is geared toward preserving mankind. Whatever you end up doing, it’s all in aid of our survival.”

  Neither Sarah or Nathan looked convinced.

  “All of that’s a way off.” Doctor Robertson turned her attention back to Sarah’s physical.

  “So what do people do?” Nathan asked.

  “For the war effort? They produce the raw materials to keep us going. Food, steel, oil, concrete. Things like that. The military acts like police and enforce quarantine to protect the general population from infection. They’re also used to secure infected territory, like foraging for supplies on the mainland or clearing islands of the walking dead.”

  “That all I got?” Nathan said bitterly. “Serving fries, pumping gas or joining the army?”

  “Well, there are specialist roles like the research onboard the Ishtar,” Dr. Robertson said.

  “Hell, end of the world happens and my career prospects are the same as they’ve ever been,” Nathan joked.

  “We got sidetracked,” Sarah interjected. “What’s causing the walking death?”

  “It looks like a virus,” Dr. Robertson answered.

  Sarah caught her gaze, “What do you mean by looks like?”

  “It’s all bit technical,” Dr. Robertson said dismissively.

  “Humour me,” Sarah said.

  “Okay. Well, it has all the appearance of an enveloped virus, but we haven’t been able to extract any of the genome, only the host’s.”

  “Won’t DNA tell you where it comes from, like the AIDs and monkey thing?” Nathan asked.

  “Well, not quite,” Dr. Robertson responded. “If we can sequence it, it won’t tell us anything for sure, just narrow down the search.”

  “What do you mean it has the appearance of an enveloped virus?” Sarah asked.

  “It doesn’t lysed its host cell it—”

  “You what?” Nathan butted in.

  Sarah turned to him and explained, “It means it doesn’t destroy the host cell. Most viruses pop the cell they invade like a balloon, spreading copies of themselves in the process.”

  “I’m impressed,” Dr. Robertson said. “You obviously have a good grasp of biology. Were you a nurse?”

  Sarah gave the tiniest of smiles. “I was studying at university before…”

  “Medicine?” Dr. Robertson’s voice held a note of excitement.

  “Inorganic Chemistry,” Sarah said.

  “Oh.” The excitement was lower but Dr. Robertson was still interested. “Well, maybe you’d like to assist Professor Cutler and me.”

  “I don’t know,” Sarah said.

  Dr. Robertson nodded. “No, I understand it’s been a busy day for you all, I dare—”

  A loud crash drew their attention to the corner of the room as a metal lid thundered its way off the workbench onto the floor. Now open, a silver container bubbled a cloud of steam down its sides and onto the desk. Beside it, Jennifer stood, looking panicked.

  With a calm, slow voice and an unblinking gaze, Dr. Robertson addressed the girl. “Back up slowly to Nathan now, Jennifer.”

  Hearing the doctor’s measured voice, Jennifer shot a scared look at Sarah.

  Gently, Sarah simply nodded.

  As Jennifer backed into Nathan’s arms, Dr. Robertson opened a drawer and donned a thick, flame retardant glove. She retrieved the lid and secured it back onto the container.

  “I’m sorry,” Jennifer said, with a tremor in her voice and a sheepish look on her face.

  “It’s okay honey, just don’
t go touching stuff in here,” Dr. Robertson said, replacing the glove.

  “What is it?” Sarah asked.

  “Just liquid nitrogen,” Dr. Robertson said. “Nut if she had spilt it on herself…”

  “That’s that stuff you see on science programs where they dip a flower in and it shatters like glass,” Nathan blurted enthusiastically, keen to show his education included something other than shooting squirrel.

  Bending down to eye level, Dr. Robertson spoke to Jennifer. “How would you like to go next?”

  Jennifer nodded slowly, unable to refuse after her mishap.

  “All this balloon popping,” Nathan began as he lifted Jennifer onto the gurney, “does that tell you how it started?”

  Dr. Robertson looked at Sarah, who was wearing an apologetic smile. “Well, it reproduces using the host cell and sending out copies of itself cocooned in parcels of the cell membrane.” She looked at Nathan. “It’s kind of like wearing a space suit because the virus can’t survive outside the body.” Happy Nathan had grasped the analogy, she returned her focus to Sarah.

  Sarah took her glance as in invitation for another question: “So it is dormant outside a host unlike a bacteria?”

  “Well, here’s an interesting thing, Sarah,” Dr. Robertson explained. “Its envelop gives it a short window outside the body, no more than a few hours, but after that it dies. Some viruses can lie dormant almost indefinitely, but not this one.” She attached an automated blood pressure cuff on Jennifer without breaking stride. “This will go tight on your arm for a moment.” Looking back up at Sarah, she continued, “The virus appears to need to colonise the body to survive.”

  The machine whirred as a motorised pump inflated the cuff.

  “So if it doesn’t survive outside the body, are we the natural reservoir?” Sarah asked.

  “No,” Dr. Robertson said as she unhooked Jennifer from the blood pressure monitor. “I don’t think so. It’s too destructive, too contagious and too quick. If it had been in humans before it would have surfaced—”

  “Doctor Robertson,” a man in the crisp blue uniform said as he stepped into the examination room. Suddenly the cabin felt cramped.