The Zombie Principle

by David R Vosburgh

  “That’s alright as long as you got it done,” said Nick with a smile.

  “Today I’ll be teaching your class Jason, we are learning about World War II,” he continued.

  “Cool,” replied Jason with a big smile.

  “I can’t believe they are letting you teach these young impressionable kids,” said Lucy.

  “History according to Nick, what could possibly go wrong,” Stephen asked with a big grin.

  “You guys are real comedians,” said Nick finishing up the last of his food.

  “Well as long as you aren’t brainwashing my kids, I’m ok with you teaching,” Kim chimed in.

  “See, this is why I like Kim, she’s the reasonable one, unlike you two love birds,” replied Nick.

  “Wha … what are you talking about,” Stephen asked incredulously quickly letting go of Lucy’s hand under the table.

  “Really, you guys think we hadn’t noticed. Come on Kim, back me up here.”

  “It’s true. You guys are like two love struck puppies,” Kim said to the giggles of her kids. “Even the kids noticed.”

  “Umm well … it just kind of happened,” stammered a blushing Lucy.

  “Oh, we aren’t judging. You’ve had a thing for Stephen for a while. It just took a zombie apocalypse for Stephen to realize it,” Nick said slugging his friend in the arm.

  “What can I say, I am a bit dense sometimes,” said Stephen putting his arm around Lucy.

  “See there you go, no need to hide this budding romance,” said Kim with an approving smile.

  “Are you gonna kiss her?” Danielle piped up.

  “Ewww … that’s gross,” said Jason contorting his face to show his full disgust.

  “Yeah, I’m with Jason, nobody needs to see that,” said Nick.

  “Alright, I think we’ve embarrassed them enough,” said Kim trying hard to hide her smile. “Don’t we all need to get to work soon?”

  “Yeah, we should probably leave in a bit. I’m still not used to the military time they use around here. I’m fine in the mornings but once noon rolls around it takes me a minute to figure out what time they mean. I keep being late to things in the afternoon,” Stephen said.

  The others nodded in agreement and finished up the rest of their food. Just as they were about to get up Major Bradley and Captain Morris strolled up to their table.

  “Morning folks, how is everyone doing today?” asked Major Bradley as he shook Stephen’s hand.

  “We are doing well all things considered,” replied Kim.

  “How are you and the Captain?” asked Lucy.

  “We are busy, but good,” replied the Major.

  “How are the rest of the men from your unit? We haven’t seen Simmons, Sinclair, or Sanchez lately,” asked Stephen.

  “They are good. Simmons is doing great work in the communications unit and Sanchez is in charge of a unit patrolling the fence line. Sinclair was promoted and is working in the motor pool,” said Major Bradley looking around. “Is Chester here this morning?”

  “Nope, haven’t seen him since yesterday morning,” said Nick. “He comes and goes as he pleases; you know Chester, he really feels cooped up here.”

  “Yes I do, and while he is a fine fellow he needs to follow the rules. He keeps slipping away from the hunting parties only to return with several deer as they are arriving back at the base.”

  “He also has a knack for finding weak spots in the perimeter fence and heading out on his own,” said Captain Morris. “Although, this has been helping us find where we need to fix the fence.”

  “Either way, when you see him again please let him know I would like to speak with him. He is drawing some unwanted attention from my superiors,” Major Bradley said.

  “We’ll let him know, not that he’ll listen,” said Kim. “Maybe I’ll have Danielle tell him, he seems to have developed a soft spot for her. She could have him eating out of her hand if she wanted.”

  That brought laughs from everyone, except Danielle who looked confused by the comment.

  “What does that mean Mommy?” she asked.

  “Don’t worry about it dear, it just means he likes you is all.”

  “One more thing before you all head off to work,” Major Bradley said looking at his watch. “You all remember us telling you about that doctor we met at Fort Campbell; the one who might have a way to fix this whole mess at his lab.”

  “Sure, Dr. Sandersomthing,” said Nick as the other’s nodded.

  “Well, I told my superiors about it and while skeptical, they want me to check it out. So Captain Morris and I are putting together a small unit to try and find the lab he was going to be working at.”

  “That’s good news, right?” asked Lucy.

  “Yes it is, especially considering the reluctance of my superiors after hearing the story.”

  Turning to Stephen he continued, “We asked that you and Chester be assigned to our unit.”

  “Me, really?” asked Stephen in surprise.

  “That’s correct; we’ve gotten good reports from your training officer. We’ll need good scouts like you and Chester if we’re going to find him in time,” replied Captain Morris.

  “Does he really have to go?” asked Lucy.

  “We can’t force him to go, but as we can’t spare many soldiers we could really use his help,” said Major Bradley.

  “It’s ok Lucy, I should do this … for Dave … and … Emma,” Stephen replied. “Plus I have been training as a scout not a fighter.”

  “That’s right, he will quietly find the infected for us and then the soldiers will do any fighting,” Captain Morris said trying to be reassuring.

  As Stephen put his arm around her he said, “It’s gonna be ok Lucy, I’ll be safe I promise.”

  “I just don’t want to lose anyone else.”

  “I know it’s hard on us all but I need to do this.”

  “I know you do.”

  Turning from Lucy to the Major, Stephen asked, “When do we leave?”

  “Tomorrow morning after breakfast at 0800 hours; you have the rest of the day off from your duties to get ready. But meet us at the armory at 1800 hours to get your gear together and for a briefing,” replied Major Bradley.

  “Yes sir, I’ll be there.”

  “Don’t worry Lucy, we’ll take care of him,” Captain Morris said gesturing to Stephen.

  “Thanks,” said Lucy. “I know you will.”

  “Alright folks I’ll let you get to work. Remember, if any of you need anything just let us know. We’ll stop by tomorrow at breakfast to say goodbye,” said Major Bradley as he patted Jason on the head.

  The Major and Captain turned and headed out of the dining hall. The group sat in silence for a minute before Jason spoke up. “Mom we need to go to school, I don’t want to be late.”

  “Alright honey lets clean up and then we’ll head over there.”

  “I can walk the kids to school so you aren’t late, I am heading there anyway,” said Nick.

  “Thanks, I’d appreciate that,” said Kim. Turning to her kids she continued, “Nick’s gonna take you to school, I’ll see you at lunch. I love you both.”

  Kim gathered the trash and trays off the table and emptied them into the proper containers before leaving the dining hall.

  Nick helped Jason and Danielle gather up their school things and then, holding Danielle’s hand, walked with both kids out the door towards the school building.

  Stephen and Lucy sat there a while longer without saying a word. Stephen was about to say something when Chester appeared in front of them and sat down with a tray of breakfast. He leaned his gun against the table and began to eat as people around them gave him worried looks.

  “Where have you been? The Major was just looking for you,” asked Lucy.

  Chester gave a grunt as his mouth was full of food.

  “The Major has a mission for us. He wants to find that doctor from Fort Campbell,” said Stephen.

  Chester finished chew
ing and said, “I know, I saw him in the hall. I’ll be ready tomorrow. And don’t worry Miss Lucy I won’t let your boyfriend out of my sight.”

  “Thanks,” said Lucy sheepishly, starting to blush again.

  “Don’t mention it, now you two better get to work before one of those logistics officers gets their panties in a wad.”

  Lucy and Stephen got up from the table and after a quick hug Lucy headed out while Stephen hung back.

  “Thanks Chester, it will help Lucy sleep better knowing you’ve got my back.”

  Chester let out another grunt and turned his focus back to his food as Stephen headed out the door to prepare for his first mission outside of the safety of Fort Carson’s fences.

  Chapter 37

  The Man Behind the Curtain

  Dr. Sanderson was sitting on a stool next to a small workbench in the corner of an elaborate laboratory. It was much larger than the one in Florida and contained the most up to date equipment available. The only problem was he did not know exactly where he was.

  The return flight from Fort Campbell had taken a little longer than the Doctor expected and used up most of the Gulfstream’s fuel; at least according to Captain Bannon. When he embarked from the plane the Doctor had expected to see snowcapped mountains, instead he was looking at a flat expanse of land that appeared to be a desert.

  When he inquired as to where they were he received no answer. When he pressed the issue, all Gunner would say was that Mr. Worthington would explain. The drive to the laboratory through the barren wasteland was a short one. The Doctor noticed that there did not seem to be any infected in the area. They passed a few deserted buildings and drove down a long road that ended in front of a large stucco house. It appeared to be the only functional building for miles.

  The inside was spacious but sparsely decorated. It did not appear to have been lived in; at least not on any kind of regular basis. The bottom floor contained a moderately sized kitchen, a living room, bathroom, and a den. The upstairs had four bedrooms and another bathroom along with a small reading area.

  The real gem was the basement. It was as close to the floor of a modern hospital in size and scope as you could get without actually being in a hospital. There was an office, three examination rooms, an operating room, and a large laboratory that the Doctor was currently sitting in. Mr. Worthington soon explained that the change in venue had been necessary because the laboratory here was the best he had and also the most remote.

  Dr. Sanderson had spent the last three weeks working fifteen hours a day in the lab only taking time out to sleep, eat, or step outside for a breath of fresh air. Except that the air was dry and hot and not overly refreshing. The only people he saw were Benton, Gunner, and a staff member whose name he had unfortunately forgotten.

  Down the hall from the laboratory, to the right, was examination room three. Locked inside, strapped to a hospital bed, was test subject Number 5. He had been removed from the cargo hold of the plane and immediately transferred to the examination room.

  Dr. Sanderson had been there countless times over the last several weeks extracting samples from Number 5. Blood samples, spinal fluid, and skin grafts. He had introduced human cells into the samples in order to see how they reacted. In each case, the infected cells consumed the human cells. He tried similar tests at different temperatures and in different quantities with the same results.

  As in Florida, he could not figure out how The Principle worked. It essentially destroyed the living human cells and subsequently shut down the organs but allowed minimal brain activity that did not even register on most machines. There, of course, was no way this should be happening. Everything Dr. Sanderson knew about medicine and more specifically the brain, worked against what he was seeing with his own eyes.

  Another thing he did not know was what would happen if the infected were deprived of food; in this case human or animal flesh. So, at the insistence of the Doctor, Mr. Worthington agreed to bring in fresh meat periodically for Number 5 to feast on. He had no idea if this kept his former patient functioning or not but he did not want to take any chances. He did not ask, nor did he want to know, where Benton was getting the meat from.

  There did not seem to be any threat from infected. He had not been informed of a single incident since he had arrived. As he spent most of his time in the basement and in the lab, he doubted he would hear anything anyway. He was sure Mr. Worthington did not want him distracted and would keep such information to himself.

  So there he was, in the middle of a desert, staring at the most recent results from yet another test. Unfortunately, they yielded the same information as all the others. He was starting to think he was not going to be able to figure this thing out.

  He was saving Number 5’s brain tissue for last. He was aware that destroying the brain was the only way to kill these things for good. Since he did not know what part of the brain in particular was vulnerable, he wanted to proceed with caution. However, it was looking like he was going to have no choice. Nothing else seemed to be working.

  As he was about to file the test results in a binder and consider what part of the brain he was going to experiment on first, the door to the lab opened. Standing in front of the Doctor was a small dark skinned man of probable Hispanic descent wearing black pants, a black vest over a white dress shirt. He was the only other person besides Gunner and Benton with which the Doctor had contact with.

  “Mr. Worthington asked me to see if you were hungry Doctor,” he said.

  As usual, Dr. Sanderson had been working straight through and had not even considered lunch; or would it be dinner? He had no idea anymore whether it was day or night. It all ran together. He kept a small refrigerator in the lab with cold drinks but needed to go to the kitchen if he required food.

  Benton must have had some kind of generator powering the building because he did not see any cables connected to it. Although, with all the sun the place got, it could be solar powered.

  “Is it day or night?” the Doctor countered.

  “Late afternoon I would say, sir,” he said.

  “I’m sorry but I have forgotten your name.”

  “My name is Manuel, sir,” he answered.

  “Well Manuel, I think I am a little hungry. What’s on the menu?”

  “What would you like, sir?” he asked.

  “Let’s see … how about a chicken salad sandwich?” the Doctor inquired.

  Dr. Sanderson noticed Manuel looking at the large binder in front of him with all the reports and test results.

  “Everything okay Manuel?” he asked.

  The question seemed to snap Manuel out of his trance.

  “Fine, sir. What type of bread would you like your chicken salad on?” he asked.

  “Surprise me,” the Doctor said.

  “Very well, sir,” Manuel said as he continued to stand in front of the door.

  “Something on your mind?” Dr. Sanderson asked.

  “What kind of doctor are you?” he asked, this time without the sir attached.

  “I am a Neurologist,” the Doctor answered.

  The blank stare told him Manuel had no idea what that meant.

  “I study the human brain and try to figure out how it works and how to prevent or cure diseases that affect the brain,” he clarified for Manuel.

  “Oh. Is that’s what is wrong with the person in the room down the hall,” he asked.

  “That’s what I’m trying to find out,” the Doctor answered.

  “My Uncle Hector died a few years ago of some brain thing. He couldn’t move his arms and then his legs and then he just stopped breathing. It was a terrible thing to see. He had some disease with a bunch a letters in it,” Manuel said.

  “Was it ALS … also known as Lou Gerhig’s Disease?” the Doctor asked.

  “Yeah … ALS … that was it. Who’s Lou Gerhig?” he asked.

  “He was a famous baseball player many years ago who died of ALS.”

  “Oh. Well good luck. I’ll go
get your sandwich now, sir.”

  “Thanks, Manuel. And I’m sorry about your Uncle.”

  Manuel nodded, turned around, and headed out the lab door and down the hall heading toward the stairs.

  Dr. Sanderson closed the binder and placed it on a small shelf above the workbench. He would try to remember to ask Manuel when he returned, now that they are on a first name basis, where the hell they were.

  Twenty minutes later Dr. Sanderson was carefully examining several MRI images of Number 5’s brain taken here in the desert lab and also in the Florida lab. He was comparing them to see how its brain had changed over time and what area seemed a likely candidate for experimentation.

  He had nearly forgotten about his sandwich when the door to the lab opened again. The Doctor turned and was surprised to see Benton Worthington III standing in front of him holding a white ceramic plate containing a chicken salad sandwich on wheat bread accompanied by a generous pile of potato chips.

  “Good afternoon Doctor, just wanted to see how your experiments were progressing,” Benton said.

  “What happened to Manuel?” Dr. Sanderson asked.

  “I had another errand for him, besides like I said, I was understandably curious about your progress,” Benton answered.

  “Your sandwich,” he said extending his arm holding the ceramic plate.

  “Thanks.”

  The Doctor grabbed the plate from Benton and placed it down on the workbench in front of him. Removing the sandwich, he took a big bite of it.

  “Not bad, given the circumstances,” he thought.

  Benton looked around the lab for a second giving the Doctor a second to chew his food. He was very proud of the medical facility he had created here. It was state of the art, self-sufficient, and most importantly, isolated.

  “So … how is it going?” he finally asked.

  “I wish I had better news to report Mr. Worthington. I have performed a myriad of tests and still am no closer to a solution. The bacterium destroys the living human tissue and nothing seems to stop it. I have decided to remove some peripheral brain tissue and initiate experiments on that. If you’d like, I can show you where I plan to begin,” Dr. Sanderson answered.