Post Script:
I now write this in my quarters. Earlier I approached Maynard and offered him my apple strudel. He gladly accepted the delicious dessert and ate with the rare avarice of a hard working yet starving scientist. I sat intently and watched as he spooned it in his mouth. He seemed to enjoy it.
When he’d finished he thanked me. Then to my great surprise he asked me how my research was coming along. After a little hesitation I informed him I was testing a new and improved drug that would boost immunity. He listened intently, raising his bushy grey eyebrows and making sounds of acknowledgment, though I omitted to tell him exactly what I was giving my test subjects, or how I was obtaining those very subjects. I then asked him if he knew when he’d be likely to have his vaccination ready. He informed me he could create his vaccination within two days of having his fish oil. To my great chagrin he then divulged to me that Baines had promised to throw all available resources behind Maynard’s cure. This included dissolving my laboratory and throwing my manpower, expertise and knowledge behind Maynard to augment full scale production of his vaccine. This will be initiated once the search and discover mission for the fish oil returns, whenever that will be.
I really don’t have that much time, but thankfully I’ve been making my own waves around here.
Journal Entry - June 29
It’s now late at night and I’m in my quarters. I’m recalling the day’s events from memory. It’s been an interesting day, so I hope I don’t miss anything out. This will, after all, be quite an important instalment in this journal.
I arrived at the lab this morning and was greeted by Baines sitting on my stool. I was taken aback by this because usually I’m summoned to go see him. He tends to believe he is beyond having to leave his little office to visit those who do the actual work around here. He possessed an expression most grim upon his face, had puffed up eyes and if I didn’t know better, I’d swear he’d been sobbing.
I asked him why he’d come to see me and then he proceeded to pace around the lab in a state of consternation. It required several tracks of Giuseppe Tartini to settle him and then he insisted I came along with him.
We walked in silence through much of New London, along by our paltry security and watchtowers, past the chicken coops and then across the front of the wind turbines. All the while he said no more. Finally we arrived in quarantine where dozens of men and women lay in beds, those who weren’t unconscious all blathered away with delirium. There were two male “orderlies,” large unskilled men whose task is to “deal” with patients after they die. By its nature, quarantine is intended to keep the ill separate from the general population ensuring infection is not spread. After a set time period has elapsed, they’re then given the all clear and are permitted to enter the populace. However, as I’m told, thus far nobody has left this quarantine alive. So far, not one person has ever recovered from the new plague.
What they didn’t know however, is that Toombs, who lay in a bed at the edge of the room had not been infected with the new plague, but by Jasper 2. He lay unconscious as we approached, was pale with patchy grey areas over his face and clumps of hair lay scattered over the pillow. His uncovered torso revealed similar blotches like a heavy smoker had repeatedly stubbed out cigars using his chest. His eyes were sunken, eyelids fragile. His lips were a deep red which bordered on purple and he looked thinner with breathing most shallow. He was done for!
I looked for some sort of clue as to which constituent part of Jasper 2 had delivered him to this bed in this state of decay. Clearly Jasper 2 had failed, but I was so close. I raised his arm and winced at the large boils below his armpit. It was clear to me it was the bubonic plague which had overcome all others and had struck down Toombs.
“It looks like the H3N17 virus,” I lied to Baines, “but mercifully he’s not in any pain.” That part was at least true, or so I thought.
“Damn fool lied to us all!” For a military man, Baines displayed much anguish. “He told me he’d not been infected…Could have turned the whole fucking city into one of those things.”
I saw an opportunity here and decided, whilst Baines was in this rare emotional state, to bend him around to my way of thinking. “Perhaps he’d been fraternising with the new refugee intake?”
He hesitated. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you’ve seen them. We may be in desperate times but there’s one thing desperate people have always done, throughout history, and some things never change, even after human civilisation’s been brought to the brink.” I tried to subtly throw the idea out there, hoping he’d be assisted to the same conclusion himself, without my having to say it.
He chewed on his lip as I wondered how this man ever rose to his present lofty position. “Professor, what is it you’re trying to say?”
I exhaled and spoke slowly, as though to a child. “I see it every time I walk through that shanty town they’ve created. The women offering themselves for food or brandy, the men likewise.” I slid closer and whispered into his ear so that the two orderlies who lingered uncomfortably close wouldn’t overhear. “Fucking an infected parasite will give you more than just the H3N17 virus. These so called refugees, we could have a situation in New London if we don’t have them quarantined.”
I was about to push the idea of using them for test subjects when his face turned red and he cut in, jabbing a finger in the direction of the unconscious man in the bed. “That is my son you’re talking about.” Something churned in my belly as he continued. “And my son has not been fucking any refugees.”
I felt sick as I had no choice other than to backtrack and spent the next few minutes placating the Colonel with a mixture of gentle hand gestures and soothing words. It was testament not only to the emotional state of the man, but also to my abilities at worming myself out of a bad situation, that I was still able to bring him around with my career and reputation intact, for now.
I apologised for making an obvious error and lied, remarking how handsome a son he was and that he even resembled his father. Once his red face faded back to its usual pink, I tried again, insisting we make use of the refugees as test subjects. The response I received surprised me.
“Yes, yes, I’ll have it seen to, of course.” His face softened as he surveyed his decaying son. “You really think you can cure him if given enough subjects for testing? What do you think are his chances of pulling through?” Baines looked at me like I was a God.
I basked in his praise but waved it away. “If he does pull through, he’ll be stronger than ever.” I lied again, knowing there was no surviving the Bubonic Plague. “But it all depends on whether you can deliver to me a constant supply of parasites. You could start in the shanty town.”
I considered Toombs and thought he’d been sent to me for this very reason, so I could perfect the Jasper vaccine and rid New London of refugees - A two for one stroke. In a strange sort of way, he was a hero. He was giving his life so that others could live and that Maynard could have increased rations. He’d finally been made useful.
The orderlies stepped closer, having taken a sudden interest in Toombs due to his change in complexion the last few minutes, which had turned paler and taken on a roasted paper quality, or lack of.
At this, all signs of hope drained from my superior as he hung his head and wiped at his eyes. “I brought him here so he could be safe but instead he’ll turn into one of them.” Baines looked at me while he spoke and for the first time, I could see he truly was Toombs’ father. Now I understood. It now made sense why I’d had Toombs forced upon me. That decision would now cost Baines.
Unfortunately, it would also cost me because if Toombs was indeed to turn then the Colonel would be less likely to round up refugees for me to inject with my special concoction of diseases, since I knew he’d only agreed in the first place out of the selfish hope for saving his son. Either way, I decided not to press the matter further, at least until he’d finished grieving.
I needed to see what would happe
n next so I insisted on staying. So Colonel Baines and I sat by Toombs’ bed for several hours while his breathing became shallower and shallower. All the while our orderly friends kept a close watch, preparing for the moment they needed to put a bullet in the head of the dying man.
Then at 19:17, Toombs passed away.
An orderly approached with a pistol, but the Colonel ordered him away.
Jasper 2 was too strong. The bubonic plague had struck down Toombs and now we awaited the moment when Toombs would rise again and commence attacking us, the moment that would confirm the failure of my work.
We waited.
The orderly returned and once again the Colonel ordered him to stand down.
The time arrived at 02:00 and still Toombs lay motionless. This was incredible news for Toombs had still not turned.
I demanded upon Baines that he allow me to study Toombs and carry out a full autopsy in the lab. It is what he would have wanted, I lied. The answers to the H3N17 virus and its antidote lay in the body of Toombs and I had to discover it. The Colonel had wanted to carry out a cremation and scatter his ashes in the river where they used to go fishing. I promised that could still happen, but first I needed to carry out a full examination. Eventually he relented and we transported Toombs back to my lab.
As I write this I am now certain that Jasper 3 will be a success and Toombs’ death will not have been for nothing. First thing in the morning I’m going to…
What was that?
I just heard an almighty crash followed by a loud bang.
Oh God, please not Toombs, surely not!...
Journal Entry - June 30
Well that was a close call.
Work today has been delayed but only by a small amount of time. My heart jumped into my mouth last night. I had the ghastly feeling that Toombs had risen and was smashing his way through my lab in search of food. That would have rendered Jasper 2 a dismal failure. Imagine my relief when I entered the lab and Toombs was still flat out cold, pale and lifeless on a slab. I almost felt like thrusting a scalpel through the eye and swishing it around his brain just to make certain but I resisted the temptation. I have full faith in Jasper 2 and the fact it has rendered the H3N17 virus retarded.
I was however curious what that loud crash had been, my security is after all at stake. It turns out some refugee kids were hanging around outside the lab quarters and a zombie had been trying repeatedly to smash through the window three floors above. Finally it succeeded and landed front first on the concrete below. That zombie turned out to be Spook! Apparently he was crawling around with a broken spine, trying to reach the soldiers who finally put a bullet through his head. I can only assume Spook has been dead for several days, unable to figure out how to unlock the door and exit his quarters. Good thing really.
I think that in light of this mischief by the refugees and Baines’ new found respect for me, now might be a convenient time to requisition for some refugee test subjects. Why wait for the Colonel to finish mourning the death of his son when there’s important work to be done?
Post Script:
Today was fun.
I removed a layer of flesh from Toombs’ neck for examination while I listened to my beloved Giuseppe Tartini and his masterful violin strokes. This time there was no complaining of headaches from the man on the slab.
Under the microscope, one can clearly detect the presence of all constituent parts of Jasper 2. No traces of H3N17 were found, which thankfully shows Toombs had not been paying midnight visitations to Spook. However what I really need to confirm is that there were no traces of H3N17 in Toombs’ brain. Since upon death we all turn into zombies whether bitten or not, this question is of critical importance. Did Jasper 2 destroy all traces of H3N17? If so then a brain tissue sample will reveal this. Ascertaining this information will be one of my next tasks, right after I’ve examined his internal organs. However, as things stand, I can be jolly ecstatic that Jasper 2 has done its job well. Other deceased subjects have indeed exhibited tissue samples containing H3N17 whether they had been bitten or not.
Post Script 2:
Looking outside my window, I can see a large group, maybe 150 refugees heading towards quarantine. Looks like Baines is finally doing something right. They’ll be checked for bites and made to remain there for several weeks. Then doubtless those lucky few not chosen as test subjects will be permitted to run amok, back with the rest of us.
Journal Entry - July 1
I couldn’t sleep last night, I’m just so excited. If the Nobel committee is still in existence, though I have no way of verifying if Norway is even still there, then I must doubtless be a shoe-in for the prize.
I plan on making an early start today - I’m taking out Toombs’ kidney for examination.
Post Script:
Specimen 2 (the kidney) detached with the usual sticky resistance of any mammalian kidney. Its connective tissues were fully intact and of good health and elasticity. The specimen was a little underweight for an adult male of the subject’s size; evidence of acute dehydration post ingestion of Jasper 2. Aesthetically, the specimen appeared normal. Comparisons with the kidney colour chart confirmed this. Ever since our world changed, I have frequently noted an incredibly foul stench, consistent with that of rotting carcass whenever removing the kidney of any deceased individual zombie or not. This has always been proof for me that we are indeed all infected with H3N17 and a bullet to the brain, post mortem is indeed necessary. However, specimen 2 did not exhibit any unnatural stinks, thankfully. Once again, examining a sample under the microscope revealed no trace of the H3N17 virus. What was made clear to me is that Toombs died from the bubonic plague. There are overwhelming quantities of the Yersinia Pestis bacteria, which unfortunately for Toombs, his kidney was unable to deal with. Jasper 3 shall need to be inoculated to the general population without bubonic plague. I shall now need to decide what, if any I will need to replace bubonic plague with? I drew up a shortlist of beauties on the back of a Kitkat wrapper a few days ago. If I recall, the Ebola virus and Rabies were top of the list.
Anyway, time to clean up around here; it’s lunch time and I’m hungry.
Important Note: I need a new test subject!
Post Script 2:
I was in the department mess when a huge commotion ensued. While I was consuming my bounty the search and discover squad returned to a rapturous applause; I nearly gagged on my eggs. While I sat there with a red mist appearing over my vision, they were given a hero’s welcome. It would appear they lost several of their number whilst away gathering fresh supplies of trout and mackerel and what few women we have here in the science department were indeed swooning over them.
This is not good news. I’m so fucking close.
Journal Entry - July 2
I visited Baines first thing today, demanding he runs with Jasper 3. I told him I’ve developed a working vaccine and I just required one single test subject to confirm it works. The bastard refused point blank. He said he was going with Maynard’s vaccine, which would be tested tonight. Such was Maynard’s faith in his own vaccine he was intending on injecting himself with it. He was also prepared to inject a huge dose of H3N17 straight into his bloodstream a few hours afterwards.
Baines was convinced!
After tomorrow, my lab will be transformed in order to manufacture this miracle fish oil vaccine. I’ll be seconded to work under Maynard.
I still have work to do, not that I can concentrate on it. I must quickly examine the rest of Toombs’ internal organs.
Post Script:
I’ve removed Toombs’ lungs, liver, heart and the majority of his intestines. They’ve all been weighed. They all look fine, bit of a smell, to be expected. Perhaps a little dehydrat…
I’m not sure I can be bothered with this. I’m about to have my work taken away from me. It’s all been for nothing. I’m going for a walk.
Post Script 2:
The walk refreshed my mind and worked up an appetite. I won’t be defeated
without a fight. In times such as these, those who don’t fight will die. It really is as simple as that.
I’m in the department mess and today I’m eating a nice piece of fish courtesy of our resident heroes. For dessert I have rhubarb crumble and custard which looks very tasty indeed. I sit and watch Maynard while he eats with Baines and some of the New London leadership. There’s much fuss around that man right now, perhaps I should offer him my congratulations. After all, I wouldn’t wish to come over as a sore loser.
Post Script 3:
Ok, that has all been taken care of. I was as gracious in my defeat as Maynard was in victory. I shook his hand and told him I was happy we could finally put this nightmare behind us. I then offered him my rhubarb crumble and custard complete with Jasper 2. Two puddings can’t be good for your health professor. Time to finish the autopsy.
Post Script 4 (recorded on tape):
Since I need a more detailed analysis of Toombs’ brain I’ve decided to record this journal entry on dictaphone with the intention of providing a full write up later. The music which can be heard in the background is of course Giuseppe Tartini’s Devil’s Trill Sonata. I can think of nothing better in which to listen while I confirm the success of my research.
Zombie Revolution Page 8