Emergence: Infection

by JT Sawyer

  Selene stared at the lifeless woman, whose blank eyes stared at the ceiling, then she looked back at the intake document on the computer screen, seeing that the woman was studying to become a teacher. She looks so young—she was probably so full of promise. Selene thought of all the school children the would-be teacher could have influenced. Now, she was a lab subject with the numbered tag of 003 attached to her right ankle. On a stainless-steel tray next to the gurney were the victim’s organs, neatly arranged like meat in a butcher shop display, making Selene feel like the morose clinical setting had further stripped the woman of her dignity.

  “Could you move the overhead camera in the autopsy room so it is centered over the exposed spinal column of the deceased?” she said to Anna, who moved towards the window and began operating a remote control that repositioned the camera in the other room. Once it was in position, she activated the laptop next to Selene, where the color image of the victim’s brain stem was visible.

  Selene returned to the glass slide under the microscope and gently probed the head of the parasite with her tweezers. She held the head of the creature with the tweezers and picked up a second pair with her other gloved hand. Selene probed the tail section, tugging slightly on the end with the other tweezers. When she released the tail, the flossy body coiled back like it was made of rubber. Selene then studied the image on the laptop, taking note of the tangle of parasites that were clustered over the cerebellum. The throbbing mass of worms seemed like they were one organism. Hmm, I thought they would all be torpid or dead by now, given their host has perished.

  “Can you replay footage from an hour ago, just after the autopsy, and see if the parasites were exhibiting the same motion?” she said to Anna. “I seem to recall that they were inert then.” She rolled her head around slightly to ease a knot in her neck. “Why are they stirring now?”

  As Anna skimmed through the footage, Selene saw a video message from Weaver at the CDC flashing on the other laptop to her left. In her narrow-minded focus on the work at hand, she had missed seeing it earlier and noticed it was sent thirty minutes ago. She clicked on the message, which showed the disheveled director in his office as dozens of other researchers rushed down the hallway visible through the open door behind him.

  “Selene, I’ve just received disturbing reports from seven of our other labs around the country that there is activity in the mass of parasites centered around the cerebellum. Where the creatures were formerly inactive and seemingly lifeless earlier, they are now exhibiting movement, as if responding to some external stimulus. But in each case, the activity began occurring at precisely the same time despite the considerable distance between victims. Can you tell me if you are witnessing anything similar on your end?”

  Selene felt a tap on her shoulder and pulled her vision away from the laptop to see Anna pointing ahead. Selene gasped at the sight of the deceased woman’s fingers twitching in the other room.

  “People—I mean cadavers—do that sometimes. It’s a reflex of the nervous system.” Selene didn’t sound convincing as she stuttered out the words. She wanted to contact Weaver, but her attention was transfixed to the autopsy room as she saw the pale fingers of the dead woman flutter in the air. This time the entire arm began rising, the outstretched limb swaying methodically back and forth.

  Selene stood up, her own muffled breathing growing rapid as she watched both arms of the woman thrust upward, clawing at the air as if probing its surroundings.

  Anna had taken a step back from the table, her voice trembling as she spoke. “How—how is that possible? She’s dead.”

  Selene dropped the tweezers on the metal table and moved back from the desk. “Get Doctor Tso down here—get him now. He needs to inform your minister of health and the other hospitals in Taiwan about this.”

  As the assistant turned to leave, the voice of Tso’s medical examiner pierced the overhead speaker. He was frantically muttering something in Mandarin. Anna rushed to the opposite end of the room and grabbed the remote control for the wall-mounted television monitor. The screen flashed on, showing rows of streaming footage from a half-dozen cities around the world. In each, there were hundreds of formerly deceased victims chasing people through the streets. In one scene, cadavers were clawing their way out of body bags lining a morgue floor.

  Selene’s breathing increased to the point where she began slightly fogging the face shield on her suit. She swallowed hard, then stepped closer to study the carnage that was unfolding. The crème-colored creatures were lunging at people, biting and mauling as worms spewed out of their mouths and swarmed over the skin of the victims, penetrating the ears and nose. A scene from Berlin showed attackers resembling a flood of fire ants, sweeping along the sidewalks as crowds of terrified pedestrians fled in every direction.

  Two more broadcasts, their images juxtaposed on the screen, showed footage from London and Seattle, where the dead emerged simultaneously from hospital infirmaries, followed by the gasps of the staff, who were standing behind the protection of the glass.

  She glanced back at the still-writhing creature beyond the observation window of the lab. Her eyes darted back to the slide of worm segments.

  What’s happening? How could all the dead victims be coming back to life at the same time?

  She watched close-up footage of a police officer’s vest-cam, which showed a deranged man in hospital scrubs who had just leapt off a four-story building in his frenzy to get to the crowd below. He crashed onto the pavement in a tangled heap, then stopped moving as the officer moved closer. There were dozens of white parasites crawling from the shattered skull as people quickly scurried away.

  Selene stepped back, brushing against Anna, whose face had become ashen. “We need to get out of here. I need to get to my laptop upstairs and contact my colleagues at the WHO back in the U.S.” She headed to the side exit, which led to the decontamination unit. Pressing the entry button, she waited for the pressure-sealed door to open, then stepped inside while Anna followed behind her. Five minutes later, after exiting the three sterilization chambers and dispensing with their biohazard suits, she pulled on fresh hospital scrubs and shoes, then proceeded through the changing room into the hallway.

  Halfway to the elevator at the end of the hallway, both women suddenly came to a stop and turned to glance over their shoulders as they heard pounding noises coming from the steel doors of the morgue down the hallway.

  Anna’s eyes nearly filled her face. “There have to be close to a hundred bodies that were placed there after the initial rash of fatalities yesterday.”

  “Please tell me that door is secure?” said Selene.

  They both gave each other blank stares, then sprinted towards the elevator. Anna began tapping her finger on the button as the noise emanating from the morgue doors increased. Selene’s eyes kept darting to the up-and-down arrow indicators above the elevator, then back down the hallway.

  “Come on,” she yelled, pounding her fist on the wall. She swung around and saw the steel frame on the morgue doors buckling. A vein in her neck was bulging and she felt her ribs constricting; the oxygen in the hallway had grown scarce. She forced her attention to a row of steel barrels lining the left side of the wall, twenty feet away. The writing was in Chinese but she recognized the universal Hazmat symbol for sulfuric acid on the side.

  Selene heard Anna frantically palming the elevator button as she stared straight ahead at the bowing doors of the morgue. She could see the silhouette of figures on the other side now as they continued to punch at the collapsing steel barrier. God, I don’t want to die here—not like this.

  She forced her legs to move forward and trotted to the barrels. Grabbing the metal rim at the top with both her hands, she leaned it back and rolled it on its side until it rested in the middle of the hallway. Selene glanced back at Anna, who was shouting in Mandarin at the elevator. She moved two more barrels until they were lined up side by side, then began unscrewing the lids over the spouts.

  The gratin
g of metal against metal filled the corridor as the morgue doors busted open, revealing a flood of maniacal creatures rushing towards Selene. She frantically unscrewed the last lid while pressing the fabric of her right arm against her mouth and nose, then stepped back and put her foot on the first barrel, kicking it over. The rolling cylinder spewed out its clear contents onto the white tiles. Selene shoved over the remaining barrels, her body heaving against the weight, while trying to keep her face protected from the fumes. Backpedaling, she raced towards Anna as the mob of enraged creatures hurtled towards them, the acid causing many of them to slip on the floor and collapse in the fluid, while others screamed in agony at the caustic effects upon their bare feet.

  Selene hardly heard the elevator doors open and instead felt Anna tugging on her sleeve as she turned and raced inside. She slammed her palm against all the buttons on the panel, knowing they were on the lowest level, and shot a furious glance at the entrance, wondering why it wasn’t responding to her urgent mutterings and Anna’s cursing. Three creatures staggered over the damaged figures around them, the flesh on their feet having sloughed off enough to reveal the white tendons on their insteps. Selene and Anna backed up, pressing themselves into the corners while gripping the handrail at their sides. What the hell—are all the elevators in this country slow? Her eyes were watering and she began to cough from the smell of fumes beginning to permeate the rest of the hallway. The first creature stumbled forward, pawing at the air while its glassy eyes fixated on Selene. As the elevator doors began to close, she heard the nearest animated corpse shriek, and thought for a moment she could still see a glimmer of something human in its eyes. Selene found herself clutching the handrail as if she was on a rollercoaster, gulping down a breath as she counted the excruciating seconds until they arrived on the main floor.

  Chapter 17

  Reisner stared out at the whitecaps on the ocean below as the outline of Taiwan came into view through the front of the Huey. With their oxygen canisters nearly depleted, his remaining team had sat in silence during the long flight, contemplating the near-death battle they’d endured and the loss of their comrades.

  Though his body was burning up and drenched in sweat from the confining biohazard suit, he felt little inside other than numbness. Dominguez and Byrne were dead, and he kept replaying the battle in his head, wondering what he could have done differently. While he had felt the anguish of losing friends in combat before, this time it felt like a searing dagger was being twisted in his side, their sacrifices lessened by Siegel’s murky undertakings that they were sent in to clean up.

  He thought back to the ghastly scene of carnage near the lab and the freakish creatures that nearly brought down his entire team. What kind of horrific virus did you unleash down there, Hayes? Those poor souls never knew what they signed on for when they set sail with the Atropos.

  He wondered what shitstorm was brewing since Runa had alerted Siegel to the presence of the foreign nationals they’d found on the ship. Reisner assumed there were probably other Chinese operatives that had made it off the ship with the drone intel since they didn’t find the missing component on the dead men near the lab. Once the Chinese decrypt the information, the U.S. will have more to contend with than this virus. Hell, even if they don’t break the encryption, it’ll probably be clear that the Atropos was one of ours.

  He felt Connelly nudge him, her finger pointing to the dial on her air canister. Reisner looked at his dial, which indicated three minutes left. He glanced up front to the cockpit at the instrument panel and saw a yellow light flashing next to the fuel gauge. I wonder which one will run out first? He gave her a thumbs-up and tried to show confidence in his eyes.

  Reisner looked out the windows to either side, noticing the lack of planes in the sky. I wonder what Runa told the minister of health to avert security concerns about us arriving on their soil?

  The pilot leaned back, tapping his earpiece beneath his biohazard suit. Reisner clicked on his device. A second later, he heard the voice of what sounded like a middle-aged man with a Cantonese accent coming over the encrypted line.

  “This is Victor Tso. I have just given your pilot the coordinates to our facility. When you land, remain on board. My staff and I will instruct you on what to do next. Follow each of our steps carefully and decontamination will proceed without any issues.” He heard the man sniffle and then sneeze. “How many members are there?”

  Reisner hesitated, painfully remembering he had to adjust his headcount. “There…there are five of us. We are in biohazard suits but our oxygen will be depleted within minutes.”

  “I understand. Your superior has informed me of the nature of your visit. Our country is under siege right now from this outbreak and most of the police and military presence has diminished in the past eight hours, so your arrival should go unnoticed.”

  “What’s happening in the rest of the world?” He was thinking of his sister Jody back in Virginia. She had probably been trying to call him, worried for his safety but only getting his usual voicemail response.

  “This is a global pandemic now,” Tso said. “And some countries are on the verge of collapsing from this virus.”

  He felt his breathing shorten, but this time it wasn’t from the dwindling oxygen supply. Tso’s words ricocheted around the confines of his head. I was just standing on my porch yesterday morning having a cup of coffee—now two of my men are dead and this virus is spiraling out of control.

  “I will see you on the helipad. I must go and prepare for your arrival.”

  He clicked off his earpiece and removed his encrypted cellphone from the zippered cargo pocket on his suit. He entered Jody’s number and then typed out a text:

  I’m fine and will get back home soon. I promise. If things get bad, I have a place outside of Montclair. The address is 6514 Boone Lane. The other number you will need is 59427. You’ll know what it’s for when the time comes but I’m just hoping I can get there first. If not, always know that I love you, sis. And I promise, I will get back to you.

  Reisner thought about the last sentence, wondering if he could keep his word.

  Chapter 18

  Langley, Virginia

  It was the third morning since the pandemic began, and Siegel was in his office watching news reports. There were only a few stations broadcasting, and while he could have easily walked down to the operations center and gotten a briefing from his remaining staff, he felt like his feet were welded to the floor. He was unable to pry himself away from the horror unfolding on the television screen. Yesterday the images depicted widespread illness and body bags being hauled out of hospitals. Today, it showed helicopter footage of the larger cities, where people were scrambling to flee from the tidal waves of nightmarish creatures who were preying upon the living.

  He only had one more hour until he and his meager staff were evacuated to the Emergency Operations Center east of Berryville, Virginia. The hardened subterranean structure had been established during the Cold War and could hold up to eighty interagency personnel for six months. The EOC was one of thirty such fortified sites around the U.S. that were designed to provide presidential successor support teams in the event the commander-in-chief was dead. With the fatality rate climbing, Siegel’s name was probably inching closer to the top of that list with each passing hour. It was a position he wanted nothing to do with. In fact, he cared for very little at this moment and wondered what kind of world would even be left by the week’s end.

  Siegel forced himself to look at the staggering projections of the spread of the virus put out by the WHO. His eyes had heavy bags under them and his hair was tousled. He felt hollow inside, like his soul had just been vacuumed out and cast into the wind.

  How could all of my work have resulted in this moment? He thought back to the call he’d received from Hayes aboard the Atropos earlier in the week. Their conversation was seared into his brain as he replayed the researcher’s words in his head for the hundredth time.

  The bioweapon
was discreetly released on a limited scale over the designated target. The ‘Siegel Effect,’ as I call it, is about to shift power on an unprecedented scale.

  He looked at a framed photograph on his desk. It showed his second wife and teenage son, whom he barely knew. Last night, he had told them to leave the city and meet him at Langley, but none of the National Guard checkpoints throughout eastern Virginia had reported in to him about their arrival, and now those soldiers were MIA, the streets choked with abandoned army trucks.

  As he leaned forward, resting his pale knuckles on the edge of his desk, his door sprang open. He knew from the sound of the footfalls that it was Runa, but didn’t have the fortitude left in him to turn around. Instead he lowered his head.

  Runa flung some eight-by-ten photos on the desk and stood beside Siegel. “These are the images from the lab on the Atropos that Reisner took. You want to tell me what the hell Doctor Hayes was brewing up there, because I’d really like to know how you two orchestrated the collapse of modern civilization.”

  Siegel shoved the photos away and stood up, folding his arms. Runa grabbed the pictures and thrust them into Siegel’s chest. “Take a good look in case you’ve forgotten.”

  “I don’t need to see them. I know all about what Hayes was doing as I signed off on everything.” Siegel set the photographs down as if they were made of thin glass.

  Siegel turned and let out a trembling exhale. He walked back around the desk and collapsed into the leather seat. “The virus was designed to be a non-lethal influenza strain that would be spread by the use of microscopic mites we released over several tea plantations in China along the coast. It was meant to manifest itself as a natural avian flu mutation without any traceable signature back to us.”