“So, who the fuck are you, and what’s been going on here? “the former police sergeant interrogated.
“I am Dr. Abrahim Gideon. I have been expecting a visit since I let the boy escape. I am so fortunate that you are here now so I can be free of all this.
“I am just one of the many doctors and scientists that the U.S. Government brought in several years ago. Our jobs wereto implement ways to develop ‘Invulnerable Warriors’ for their military and ‘super athletes’ for their Olympics and sports programs. They had us working directly with the Marine division. They set up two labs for us in the States, one on each coast, and then this one after the Florida lab got shut down.
“I was initially just an assistant to Dr. Sonjay Muhammed, who has since left us when he got a little too absorbed in his work.”
Jake offered, “That name sounds familiar. I think he was one of the consultants the Corps was using for our Zeus project.”
“Yes, that is correct.”
Jake needed some clarification. “Okay, Doctor. I don’t get it. So, it all started out with you guys trying to develop these ultimate warriors with us in the Corps. But we all know that didn’t work out. What went wrong?”
“At first the serum seemed to be working. It was intended that we would give the soldiers their ‘Power Rations’, daily subjecting them to minuscule portions of the formula. “But then there was talk that Camacho, Fiedler and Blackhoof had stolen some of the vials and then consumed amounts way over what we had prescribed. Very dangerous. So of course, the effects on those guys were incredible. Damaging, but incredible at the same time. A few months later, there were accounts of them pulling three-foot diameter trees out of the ground and lifting automobiles.
“But for those that were taking the rations as suggested, they were benefiting quite nicely. That is until it eventually destroyed their brains, and some could not think for themselves any longer. They began attacking and eating their own comrades.
“But even when the generals over the project learned that the new drug had turned their own people into monsters, they did not stop the program. They said that as long as the soldiers did not turn into monsters right away, if their transformations could be controlled and delayed for a few years, then the soldiers would be extra powerful while they were still active officers. And if they turned after their military commitment was over, no big deal.
“Eventually though some of the soldiers were tur ning much earlier than others. This is because all people are unique and are affected differently by various strains of viruses and drugs.
“You know, it is very likely that someday we would have been successful. But like always, the government people were impatient. They would not allow us the proper amount of time that we really needed to perfect the product before they started using the drugs on their men.”
Gideon continued. “Isn’t that just like the impatient Americans to throw billions of dollars at something that doesn’t even work? Hell, where do you think they started spending all of the money that used to go towards the space program?”
“We used to joke about that. We would call these experiments ‘one giant leap backwards for mankind” Gideon snickered.
“I tr ied to get out of this long ago. What they were making me do was evil, immoral. I tried to stop the whole project, but they would not hear me out.
“Then the whole Al Anbar thing went down, and this project became exposed to the world. They sent us all packing. I was so relieved, I felt free again. I planned to start out on my own and aimed to develop a performance-enhancing product for the top athletes in the world. I could have made millions.
“But then he found me.”
“Who did?” Hathaway asked.
“The one who calls himself Camacho.
“After he was forced out of the military because of his role in the Al Anbar incident, he testified in the court trial against soldiers Barrett Blackhoof and Levi Fiedler to avoid his own prosecution.
“After that, he tracked me down. He informed me that he would bring me to the authorities and have me prosecuted on a variety of charges if I did not set up this new lab here in Mexico. I had to do it in exchange for my freedom.
“Anyways, it’s still Camacho and who knows who else is running the show. They are still hoping to develop some type of indestructible warrior or super athletes. When we needed to find volunteers to participate in the testing, it was his idea to go out with his cronies to collect the homeless, illegals, druggies, runaways; the dregs of society, to be brought to us to experiment with.
“But you watch - Camacho only cares about himself. If he gets some foreign nations interested in this work, I could see him jumping ship and selling out in a heartbeat. Anything he can do to make himself a fortune in the end.”
“So why would you take a risk and let the kid escape and cooperate with us now?” Jake was curious.
“I don’t have much life left to live. I was accidentally exposed to the virus. I am doomed. I don’t want to die without doing something valiant before I pass. For the sake of all humanity, someone needs to put an end to all of this.
“Oh - and on a side note, I hear that within the last few months all of the branches of the military started to use the serumagain. But now, as a weapon. It’s part of their Zeus to Zombie plan, or Z squared.”
“Huh?” Jake was stupefied. “They are still using it?”
“Yes, now they give the serum to soldiers even more slowly, with tinier doses over long periods of time. It increases their strength and will,but the side effects don’t set in as quickly.
“Then, if the soldier becomes badly injured or ill when in enemy territory, they have been instructed to administer to themselves one final mega-dose with their Z-pen. They shoot it up in the leg.
“This turns them into zombies, and they continue fighting the enemy long after they would have if they had died. And then they bite the enemies who in turn will eventually turn as well and eat their entire ranks. The victims multiply.
“They like to refer to this as ‘slaying it forward’.”
“So, break it down for us then in terms we can understand. What exactly were you guys giving to these people you are experimenting on? And what was in our Power Rations or ‘Zeus Juice’ in the Corps?” Jake demanded.
“Well, there was some HGH for building muscle mass. Also , some prostaglandins to promote inflammation by diluting the blood vessels and letting blood flow into body tissue to build more mass as well. It also provided quicker recovery from vigorous training and exercise.
“There was also some creatine to boost levels of adenosine triphosphate, or ATP, in the muscle tissue. We added erythropoietin to increase red blood cell production, increasing endurance and allowing the recipient to train or fight longer and harder.
“Then we sprinkled in some bromantane for good measure. This is a chemical the Russians used to give to their soldiers and cosmonauts to make them more alert and to fight fatigue.”
Jake offered, “Doc, I ain’t no scientist but none of those substances you described should be making people turn into walking cadavers that want to eat other folks…” “You are correct” Gideon said. “Except that somewhere during the process of creating this compound substance, some protein-aceous infectious microscopic particles, or prions, found their way into the synthesis process. These prions are pesky pathogens responsible for a variety of neurodegenerative diseases such as Mad Cow Disease and scrapie.
“Mad cow disease affected cattle. And scrapie is a painful, fatal prion disease that attacks the nervous system of goats and sheep.
“These diseases also attack brain tissue, often leaving mini craters in the membrane. Now imagine a disease that can influence humans in a similar manner. That is what we are seeing here now.”
Anthony scratched his head and contemplated the doc’s last sentiments. “Okay, so you’re saying these things are not dead.They’re not zombies? They are just people who are realIy sick and fucked up?”
&n
bsp; “No, I would not consider the m to be zombies as portrayed in the traditional movies and TV shows. They don’t climb out of cemetery graves after being embalmed and inactive for years. Everyone knows the dead cannot suddenly reawaken and emerge from their dirt beds to plow upwards through six feet of soil and pop their heads out of the ground like that Whack-A-Mole game at the video arcade.”
The science guy chuckled to himself, then halted. He quickly ascertained that no one there was amused. “It would probably be more accurate to desc ribe these as something else. Beings that are not clinically dead or living but somewhere in between. Thus, I like to call them the ‘in- betweeners.’ Their hearts can be defunct, blood no longer flowing. They should be deceased and down for the count, butthey don’t feel the pain and don’t know they are dead, so they continue to sludge around.
“So, to answer your question, I don’t know what they should be called. But they are something quite different from your Hollywood zombies. However, I would say they are still zombies, nonetheless. The only difference is that these ones we are seeing- are real.
“Some of us in the laboratory were referring to them as ‘Anthrops,’ short for the term ‘Anthropophagi,’ which means an eater of human flesh. They exist merely to eat and devour animal and human flesh.
“And they are very difficult to stop. One must destroy their brain. Gideon continued. “Some others started calling them ‘carnies’ for carnivores or ‘chemically altered ravenous nonhumans’, whichever you prefer. I didn’t like the term ‘carnies’ because apparently that is the nickname given to those people who wear old Motley Crue concert shirts cut into ‘wife-beaters’, chain smoke cigarettes and put your kids on the rides at the state fair. Quite scary characters themselves.”
Duy quizzed the science guy. “Then how does one account for the reports of people waking up after being pronounced dead in emergency rooms or sitting up straight during their autopsy? And some even climbing out of their graves? These are accurate accounts from morticians, emergency room doctors, paramedics, and grave diggers. These aren’t just headlines from the National Enquirer. This is the real deal.”
Gideon responded. “In order for any being to move at all - anything from opening an eyelid to sitting straight up on a coroner’s table - there has to be at least a minute portion of the central nervous system; the brain and spinal cord, functioning.
“Now when a person has been infected with these prion -based neurodegenerative diseases, it seems as if many of the body’s key organs and systems become lethargic. Much like when one falls into a coma.
“This could make it virtually impossible to detect a pulse, heartbeat, blood pressure, and brain activity. There would even be a good chance that the body temperature would be reduced and there could even be signs of rigor mortis.
“These characteristics combined would easily make someone infected with this malady to appear deceased. Thus, they are being pronounced dead, being sent off for autopsies or going straight to funeral homes for burial and awakening from their slumber with some very inconspicuous timing.”
“Okay, it’s starting to make sense to me now. Except for this: how are people who weren’t even experimented on or been given the ‘Power Rations’ now becoming infected through bites?” Jake questioned.
“It’s simple - any transfer of body fluids from an infected one to another is just like being injected with a loaded syringe full of the serum. The disease cannot be transmitted through skin absorption alone, but it can be contracted when these diseased fluids enter into a previously healthy recipient’s mucous membranes such as the mouth, nose, and eyelids to name a few. Or even open wounds.”
Jake, Duy and Anthony all looked at each other. They were obviously concerned about this newfound information they had previously been completely unaware of. Duydeclared, “Jake, remind me to get some goggles, face masks and a raincoat as soon as we get outta here.”
Jake nodded in the affirmative an d redirected his questioning of the doctor. “So, once infected, how long does it take before you …?”
“Before you are stricken and mutate?” Gideon completed Jake’s sentence for him.
“You know, everyone’s body is unique. Much like each fingerprint or retinal blood vessel pattern. So, there are many factors to be considered, but a lot depends upon the means in which the virus was contracted.
“A person who receives a transfer of infected body fluids through an open wound is going to mutate slower. Slower than one who is bitten and receives that contagion directly into their bloodstream. And they are also losing their precious untainted hemoglobin simultaneously. This person could switch over in a matter of minutes…”
The science guy was on a roll. He was feeling somewhat satisfied in the fact that he may be helping these young men in their efforts to understand and fight this epidemic.
“So, what you are wondering now is - what can one of these creatures do? Can they think? Can they run? Can they fight or maneuver a weapon or turn doorknobs or climb trees?”
“Yeah…?” Jake said.
“Well, again – every person and body is unique. But some obvious factors can determine these answers. Physical abilities and/or limitations are the primary factor.
“
A person who in life was old and slow from arthritis or missing a leg is not going to change and become any quicker after the morphosis. Then you also factor in some rigor mortis, which is the stiffening of the limbs following death as muscles decay. This seriously slows them down, depending how far along into the process they are.
“Throw in the fact that there is also autolysis, or postmortem cell disintegration, and putrefaction, the decomposition of proteins by anaerobic microorganisms. You can see that most of these mutants are going to be slow because their bodies are shutting down and struggling to function at even the lowest levels.
“Another element to consider is the condition of the brain in that who has switched over. As we discussed already, the infected have cerebral disease. Corrosion is eating away at their membrane.
“I don’t know how much you guys know about the human brain. But in a nutshell, there are two hemispheres which are linked to the corpus callosum, which is just a large bundle of nerve fibers through which the two halves communicate back and forth.
“This communication is what coordinates such various functions of the body as motor, sensory, and mental functions. So, if the portion of the cerebrum that controls motor skills is diseased and/or damaged from any type of injury, the Anthrop is likely to be dragging some limbs around and functioning much slower.
“A ‘throp that has holes blown out of its mental function fuse box may have the ability to use its hand to turn a doorknob but will have no clue as to how or why to make such an attempt.”
Anthony was chomping at the bits to ask his question: “Okay, doc. Now tell us how the nation and mankind can survive this plague.” “Well, the solution is no secret. People must stop injecting themselves or oth ers with the serum at the front end. Additionally, all of the infected must be eradicated, and then all of the water and soil that has been corrupted with the toxin from the dead remains must be decontaminated, as well as all of the various mosquitoes and insects that may carry the germs. They must also be eliminated.
“And as for those who have already been exposed, there i s no cure available. The only one who could create such a thing, an anti-virus or vaccine, was Dr. Muhammed. And he has since flown the coop. Other than tracking him down or someone else concocting such an antidote, those who are infected like me are nothing more than ticking timebombs.”
“So, in short, fear the Anthropophagus. Because they sure as hell do not fear you!”
KAAABOOOOMMMMMM!!!!! An earth-shaking explosion erupted in the near distance, followed by a thick grey smoke which propelled all around the men where they stood. In a caricature of chaos, Duy became separated from the rest of his crew.
He was suddenly smashed in the back of his head with a solid hard wood rifl
e stock, sending him straight into dreamland.
Chapter Thirty - Four- Wake Up Call
Reynosa, Tamaulipas Mexico Duy Tran woke up at the crack of dawn, with a seventy-five-pound Belgian Malinois police dog licking his face. His head was pounding like a heavy metal drummer’s bass drum. He was sprawled out on the ground outside the now empty and abandoned structure that just days before was operating as a secret laboratory.
Duy had been rocked by someone or something that abruptly ended his consciousness of the evening before. Now in his blurry of indescribable head trauma and pain, he sat upright on the sunbaked, red Mexican soil. And all he could wonder was: where the hell is Jake?
A few feet away from Duy was the body of Anthony, face down in the dirt and disturbingly still. Duy instinctively presumed he was dead at first sight, but quickly proceeded to wake him up. “Little man -you okay?”
“Yeah I guess,” Anthony weakly retorted. “And don’t call me that.”
Duy stood on wobbly legs and began to look around for Jake, telling Roscoe “Find Jake, boy. Find Jake.”
Roscoe, although trained and educated in the German language, could not comprehend Duy’s commands, but he knew what Duy was getting at. Roscoe put his nose to the ground, searching for the familiar scent of his best friend.
Within a few moments, a mud-encased tan Toyota Sequoia pulled alongside Duy and Anthony. Inside the crew cab of the Sequoia sat four heavily armed Mexican men. Each was gripping their own automatic rifle to their sides with the stock ends on the floorboards and the barrel ends facing up toward the inside roof.
“Hey, we know where your big muscle-bound friend is at” remarked the rear left passenger. Roscoe was going crazy barking at the men and eager to jump in through the lowered back window. “My name is Humberto. These are my employees. Word on the street is that my boy Rafael and your friend got taken at gunpoint by several undercover agent-looking guys. One of my people was able to follow them and is still tracking them currently. Seems they are headed north into the U.S. and continuing northbound up through the states.
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