Parasite; The True Story of the Zombie Apocalypse

by Doug Ward

As I was arguing with Dean about alcohol warming the body, it dawned on me.

  "Alcohol restricts the flow of blood to the brain," I blurted out, cutting my friend off in mid-sentence.

  "What does that have to do with anything?" he asked, perturbed at my outburst.  I could hear static as he checked one of the walkie-talkies.

  "That's why some of the people we encountered turned at an incredibly slow rate," I explained, almost having to stop the vehicle in my eureka moment.

  "What do you mean?" Dean asked clearly not following.

  I had forgotten that everyone was not privy to the notes I had taken during the interviews.  I had to think of common cases they would both know about.

  "Bill," I began in my most clinical voice.  "He had been bitten days before we discovered him.  He had been drinking squeeze."

  "What's that?" asked Dean, checking another radio, loud static nearly drowning out his question.

  "The product of pressing sterno through some type of cheese cloth.  It produces methanol, a type of alcohol which can get you drunk but can just as easily kill you," I explained.  "The effects of the methanol constricting the brain’s blood vessels would have blocked the transport of the parasite to its destination.  Thus, it would have delayed the onset of the subject’s turning."

  "That's why it took so long for Ted to become one of them!" Melissa added, understanding my line of thought.

  "Exactly," I agreed.

  "So we should all get drunk?" Dean said, hefting a bottle from the case and grabbing the cap.

  "No," I said emphatically.  "It would not only impair our judgment, but it's only a slight delay of the inevitable.  Besides, the undead typically don't take just a small bite.  We would die either way."

  "Is that why Julie took so long?" asked my friend in a small voice.

  "I believe so, Dean."

  We rode on in silence, the tires humming as the two vehicles pulled onto interstate 80.  I drove past the exit for the college town of Clarion, preferring to enter the state forest from its more remote eastern side.  We wove along back roads that made the ones where we lived seem like cities.  In this mid-Pennsylvania area, state forest bordered State Forest, which was then bordered by state parks.  Not a living or undead soul was within miles.  It was so desolate, I began to wonder if they noticed the zombie outbreak.

  As we drove down a particular dirt road, a big, gray primer-colored Chevy truck passed by.  Spray painted on its side in red was, The Hillbilly Headshot Posse.  I somehow got the idea that the infected had arrived.

  As we pulled back onto a paved road, Melissa sleepily asked, "Are we there yet?  I need a ladies’ room?"

  "Can't you wait?" I asked, irritated.

  "I haven't gone in a long time," she replied, straightening in her seat.

  "Why didn't you go earlier?"

  "I didn't know there was going to be a zombie apocalypse, so I didn't empty my bladder," she replied, rounding on me.  "I gotta pee!"

  I started to pull off the road, a field to either side.  "Don't even think about it!" she said vehemently.  "I'm not peeing out in the open!"

  I pulled back on the road.  I could imagine Drew driving behind us.  He must think we're crazy; slowing, speeding, pulling off the road and then veering back again.  I could hear Frank and Ben now.  They probably were trying to convince the others that we turned into zombies.

  A few miles up the road, we saw a lone gas station.  It was dark and dingy, but the restroom doors were plainly visible by our headlights.  I pulled the vehicle around and hit the high beams so the full power would illuminate the woman's room if I held the door open.

  Melissa hurried out of the Humvee, gun first, joined immediately by a duck-walking Amber.

  Drew hurried over, saying, "Where are we going?"

  Dean tossed him a radio, which Drew couldn't manage to catch.  It dropped to the ground, the back cover popping off, batteries rolling all over the place.

  "Fanboys!" my neighbor muttered under his breath.  "Up near the dam.  There's a secret squirrel CDC base up there."

  I fished out a pair of flashlights and handed them to the girls.  As we started toward the doors, I could hear Drew telling Dean that Frank almost had them all believing that we were in the throes of reanimating into zombies.

  "Do you want me to go in first?" I asked, feeling bold.

  "No!" Mel cut me off.  "We're big girls.  We don't need some big macho man checking on monsters under the bed."

  I let them go, watching as Amber grabbed the door handle while Mel aimed her gun at the opening.  I kept alert as Amber gave the door a pull.

  "Oh," Melissa cried in disgust, wrinkling her nose and turning her head slightly as she carefully walked to the opening.  Gun still raised, she looked down at the restroom floor and signaled Amber to let it close.

  They then tried the men's room.  This time, my wife stalked up to the open door with a weapon in one hand and flashlight in the other.  She scanned the room for danger, then directed her friend inside.

  "You can at least stand guard," Mel commanded voice full of mirth.  "Isn't that what you guys are for?"

  "Sure," I replied, taking a place outside the door.

  Frank and Ben quickly relieved themselves near the Humvee and immediately hopped back inside.  The two others joined me outside the door to the men's room.

  "Where are the girls?" Drew asked.  I pointed over my shoulder as the pair exited the men's room.

  "Ummm..." Drew stammered.  "That's the-"

  "We know!" Amber said sarcastically, answering his unspoken question.  "You don't want to see that!"

  Melissa explained what she saw.  "It looks like she slit her wrists.  She isn't one of them.  It looks like she just couldn't take it.  Maybe she was trapped."

  "She didn't turn?" Dean asked, hand unconsciously going to the gun tucked in the waist of his jeans front.

  "No, she's dead," she continued.  "It's really quite sad.  Every one of these people has a story that will go untold."

  We all took a moment, letting that thought sink in.  It was true.  Even in the future, if we survive this event, everyone's personal experience will just fade away.

  Amber leaned into Drew's shoulder.  "It's quiet here. Why don't we stay the night in the Hummers?"

  "Humvees," Drew corrected.

  She frowned, "Whatever.  We're all tired and we don't know what's ahead.  Is it smart to go there in the dark?"

  Melissa placed a hand on my shoulder.  "She's right," she agreed.  "If there's any sort of trouble ahead, it would be best if we were rested."

  We passed out some of the food and water. Each vehicle would be responsible for their own watch.  Everyone would stay inside.  Even though it was very remote here, we couldn't chance a guard being outside.  One slip up and we would all be vulnerable.

  The night passed with no incident.  The birds’ stirring woke us with their songs.  If you didn't think about the woman in the bathroom, you would think this area was completely untouched.

  Everyone used the bathroom one last time and we ate and drank a little before resuming our journey.  The day was cooler, a cold front from the north having followed the storm.  It left the air crisp and pure-feeling.

  As I started up the military vehicle, I could see Dean’s telltale mark on the woman's restroom door.  Dead inside.  Not a zombie, just dead, written in permanent marker.  Hopefully, his little guide would save someone the shock that the girls experienced.

  The pavement was still mostly dark on the right side, the shadows from trees slowing evaporation from the sun.  We traveled north.

  Nature seemed to continue as normal.  We saw a three deer cross the road and the occasional groundhog munching plants beside the berm.  Squirrels and birds darted about in search of food.

  "Do you think they will get infected?" asked Melissa absently as she watched the scenes unfold outside her window.

  "I doubt it," I assured her.  "Most pandemics
rarely make a cross-species jump.  Even then, sometimes the virus can be present in the blood stream but has no infectious hold on its host."

  An abandoned ranger’s booth provided us with a map of the Allegheny National Forrest.  The dam was clearly shown.  Several campgrounds speckled the area, indicating possible places of concern for undead.

  We could see the large reservoir appear before us, marking our approach to the Kinzua Dam.  Sunlight reflected off the water, looking tranquil.  The surface was like glass, undisturbed by the almost nonexistent breeze.

  All eyes were on the body of water as our goal came into view.  The dam loomed ahead.  A long and empty parking lot ran all the way up to the man-made structure that created flood control for the Allegheny River.

  "Where's this top secret facility?" asked Dean.

  "Up there," I said, indicating a mountain directly beside the reservoir.  "She said there was an old road that goes up to another reservoir above this one.  That's where the hydroelectric generating station is."

  "They put all those deadly diseases near a water source?" he groaned.

  "It would provide excellent backup power following a prolonged outage," I proposed.  "You wouldn't want the freezers keeping things like bubonic plague losing power."

  "No," he agreed.  "But, if it did fail, it would contaminate the entire waterway."

  "That wouldn't happen," I countered.  "These types of facilities have various fail-safes in place, all with redundancies.  If the freezers reach a certain temperature, the room or rooms are control-burned at temperatures far beyond what the contents can survive.  It is really quite safe."

  We found the old road and followed it uphill until we saw a smaller road veer off to the side.  Following the smaller one, we came to a fortified metal gate.  The high fence was topped with razor wire and ran off in both directions disappearing in the trees.  A metal box with a mechanism for swiping coded cards was on the left, but not necessary.  The gate stood wide open, one side leaning out at an odd angle.  Plastic car moldings and some glass indicated the cause.

  "It looks like it was rammed from the inside," Melissa observed.

  "Man, someone wanted out in a hurry," Dean added.

  Melissa looked at me seriously as our vehicles idled in place outside the gate.  "Maybe we shouldn't go in there, Hank."

  "We need to see if there's anyone here with some answers," I reasoned.  "They may need our findings.  They might need help."

  The three of us agreed to investigate the facility.  As Dean cleared the entrance of debris, I walked back to the other Humvee.  Drew lowered the driver's side window.

  "We are going in to look around," I informed them.

  "I don't think that's a good idea!" Frank called from the back.

  "We're with you," Drew assured me.

  Frank and Ben shot forward in their seats, nearly climbing over to the front.  "Can't you see the gate?" Frank reasoned.

  Ben added, "Something bad happened in there!"

  "What would Batman do?" Drew challenged the two.  Heads lowering, they both retreated to their seats.

  "I thought you were Batman," I teased.

  "I am," he verified in a serious tone.  "But they think I'm Bruce Wayne because I own a comic book store."

  Drew's Humvee followed ours as we proceeded through the fence to the main building.  Being used to the Atlanta site, I was looking for a large, modern piece of architecture.  What we found was a parking lot and a door leading into the mountain, cars parked in orderly rows.  It looked like a normal day at the office.

  The only thing out of the ordinary was the door hanging open.  We parked not far from the entrance.

  "I have a bad feeling," Dean said softly to me as we gathered the others in the lot.

  "We have to be sure," I answered in low tones.  The door had scorch marks on the inside.  Gathering my courage, I said in my most commanding voice, "I know this doesn't look like what we expected.  We have to know what happened here.  We have to keep hope alive and, if necessary, give assistance where needed.  Now, if any of you want to stay outside or leave altogether, we will understand and support your decision."

  There was silence, the group exchanging worried looks with each other.  I began to fear that I might be alone on this excursion.

  "I've been with you from the start, Hank!" Dean spoke, hoisting his M16.

  "I'm in!" Drew said, joining Dean at my side.

  In the end, five of us stood in a group.  Frank and Ben deciding to stay in the safety of the vehicle.  With weapons ready, we entered the facility.

  The door gave off a slightly smoky smell as we passed through the threshold and into a reception area.  The room was well lit, which meant the generators were still running, but it also revealed long-dried pools of blood on the floor.  A long, reddish-brown smear trailed down a hallway and out of sight.

  "Which way?" Amber asked, edging around a congealed, dark crimson puddle.

  "Toward the main elevators," I said, motioning straight ahead.

  "How do you know where they are?" asked Dean.

  "I read the sign," I said while casually pointing at it with the automatic handgun Frank had lent me.

  Dean breathed out loudly in disgust as he saw the sign indicating the various departments.  Personnel, communications, and financial departments were all on this level.  Security and various labs were on the third floor.

  We silently crept down the dirty, carpeted hall, paralleling the bloody smear.  The lines made by the bodily fluid looked like an abstract painting; fingers absently crossing, creating a random, yet fluid, composition full of irregular rhythm and pattern.  If I didn't know what the medium was, it wouldn't have horrified me at all.

  When we reached the elevators in the middle of the hall, Dean said, "I guess we go down."

  "I don't like elevators," Melissa said in a serious tone.

  "These places don't have stairs. One way in and one way out," I explained. "It's a security thing."

  I understood her comment.  She had told me earlier about her experiences at her office, about how exposed you are when you travel in one.  We all readied our weapons, aiming at the double doors and waiting.

  The bell chimed and the doors rolled open.  It was empty.  The faint sound of Muzak could be heard from inside.

  We entered, turning to face the closing doors.  "I really don't like this," Melissa said with a slight tremor in her voice.

  "What floor?" asked Drew, hand hovering near the numbered buttons.

  "Third," I responded.

  Mel's hands shook as she leveled her weapon at the closed doors.  The rest of us joined her, raising our own guns in anticipation of an attack.  I could feel sweat making the handle of my gun slippery.  It felt like I couldn't get a firm grip, like the discharge would make the weapon fly out of my grasp.

  This prompted me to add my other hand.  Doubt made me want to stop the elevator, but I pushed on.  My friends were all at my back.  We were going to make a difference.  I knew it.

  The chime sounded, signaling our arrival two floors down.  It might have been a dinner bell, except that no zombies were around.  The hallway was empty.  There was blood and other bits of matter, but not one undead walker.

  A sign indicated that security offices were to the right. The left hallway led to the labs. The sound of the Muzak diminished as we exited the elevator and started left. The group moved in precision.  We covered each other as we moved down the hall as one unit, weapons always scanning any area, which might pose a threat.

  Weeks of living in a hostile situation ingrained safe behaviors. We needed no prompting.  We just understood.  Never lower your guard.  Move as a group. Watch for the unexpected.  It was amazing to experience.

  We saw nothing until we stalked by a window, which offered a passing view of one of the laboratories.  Immediately, zombies approached the glass dividing the hall from the room in which they were trapped. The clear divider was sme
ared with secretions better left undetermined, blurring our view of the ghastly occupants.

  "Which room?" Dean asked over his shoulder, never letting his eyes stray from the point area in our formation.

  "Look for some type of research and development lab, some place they might have been developing an antitoxin.  We need to find where they might have been trying to create a cure or prophylactic drug," I answered, not sure where we needed to go.  "Maybe that one."

  I was indicating a laboratory, which looked empty.  The room looked well illuminated and totally undisturbed.

  The door was locked.  I noticed a card slide on the right and produced Pamela Mason’s ID card from my front pocket.  I slid it through the slot and entered the code she had whispered in my ear.  The information I had so fearfully gained paid off as the doors slid apart, revealing an entrance to the lab.

  We spread out once inside the room; fanning in different directions, each keeping our guns trained on where our eyes looked.  We were a well-honed unit.

  I headed straight for the computer desk.  Sitting in the chair, I slid forward, only to meet some early resistance.  Pushing the chair back as hard as I could, I cleared the desk’s opening and bouncing off of the wall directly behind it.  There was something under the opening.

  My gun trained on the area, I could see a set of legs and the bottom of a white lab coat.  "Come out of there!" I demanded.

  The rest of my friends, having found nothing, sped to my side, weapons coming to bear on the hidden occupant of the desolate lab.  I felt more confident with the extra firepower.

  "I'm not one of them!" the hidden woman replied.  "Not yet, at least."

  I could see by the hastily bandaged hand that she was telling the truth.  Blood stained the white fabric as she extended her hands in a gesture of surrender.

  Chapter 35

  Melissa