The Neuropathology Of Zombies (12 page)

One grasped a disarticulated arm. The limb was stripped of flesh; the creature dug its teeth into the bone, and strands of fresh, purple muscle hung off, and wiggled while the beast fed.

The other monster wrapped its lips around the jagged end of a broken long bone, attempting to suck the marrow from the center.
I leaned close to the Marine and whispered, “I have an idea.”
I slid back towards the morgue exit. I reached up to a control panel that was located a few feet from the cooler door.
“This controls the temperature of the cooler; let’s see if we can freeze them. I am going to turn it all the way down.” I smiled at the thought of my sinister plan, and I turned the thermostat to the lowest setting.
Normally, body storage coolers are kept at around 35 degrees Fahrenheit, cold enough to slow the process of decomposition, but not cold enough to freeze the body. But, if the temperature setting was too low, or the body was close to the air duct, it could freeze.
The Marine smiled back at me, “You’re a bad man, Doc.”
Our moment of triumph was disrupted by a thunderous ‘bang’ on the cooler door. The Marine fell backwards and I jumped across to the other side of the hallway. I looked into the window and saw a mangled face staring out at us. I made eye contact with it, and it began to pound on the window. I could hear a deep guttural moan creeping through the thick insulation of the door.
I wondered what the other Driftwood was doing. I walked closer to the window and looked inside, my face pressed against the glass. The beast at the window flew into a rage and beat its fist against the metal door. The other Driftwood tried to stand, but slipped on the blood pooling on the floor, it fell backwards and convulsed, like a fish on the bottom of a boat.
“Well, we’d better leave them alone, let them finish up ol’ Mary Osbourne. We’ll come back in a bit to see how they’re doing. Hopefully we’ll have a couple of ‘zombicles,’” I said and headed towards the exit. “Let’s go check on the skin slides and the blood sample from the injured Marine.”
We made our way back to the pathology lab. The main entrance to the hospital was sealed like a safe. With the metal gates pulled down over the two large bay windows, the central corridor seems more like a tunnel than a major passageway. The hallway was illuminated by overhead emergency lights, and in the distance, the glimmer from the lab door shown like a beacon in the dark.

CHAPTER 12

The frozen section slide was sitting beside the microscope when I arrived. The internist was standing in the middle of the room, pacing, waiting for me to return.

“Hawk, the Marine is starting to show signs of infection. He has a fever and is complaining of body aches. The skin around the bite is looking gangrenous. It’s not looking good, things seem to be progressing rapidly. It’s been an hour since the bite and he’s already starting to deteriorate,” Allen spoke rapidly, but calmly.

“That’s not good news. It wasn’t a horrible bite, it isn’t like Igor took a chunk out of him. I would have expected things to move a little slower. We’ll have to keep a close eye on the clock, and see just how fast it advances. One thing we know for sure is this can be passed from person to person by a bite. This really has the feel of a virus, one that is shed in the saliva,” I said.

“I think it may be interesting to get a cheek swab from him and try to culture it,” the virologist spoke. The microbiologist agreed.
“I think that’s a great idea. Dr. Allen, would you mind?” I said.
“No, I’ll go do it right now. When I get back we’ll look at his blood smear,” the internist said, reaching for a paper wrapper containing cotton swabs.
Dr. Allen left and I sat down at the microscope, the technician sitting across from me.
I was beginning to like the technician. He was young and enthusiastic. I found it fascinating that he seemed totally un-phased by our predicament. I was impressed by his ability to get these machines up and running. I think he enjoyed the challenge.
I moved the slide across the stage, “Look at this ulcer, it has a necrotic, rotten center filled with pus that is made up of dead acute inflammatory cells and dead tissue debris. The epidermis is gone, eaten away down to the underlying dermis. The tissue is more preserved near the edge of the ulcer, and there are small fluid filled blisters separating the layers of the skin, but there is almost no inflammation at the periphery. Look at this area right here,” I said moving the illuminated arrow. “Where the epidermis is slipping off, the dermis is forming these pointy mounds we saw in the last skin biopsy. Further away, here at the far border of the sample, the skin is autolysed and simply decomposing. This is strange. There are two processes going on here.”
I lifted my head and looked at the wall for a moment before refocusing my gaze down the eye pieces, “Sometimes when a virus infects a cell it creates little blurs of viral particles called ‘inclusions’, but I don’t see any. There are none in the epithelial cells of the epidermis. That surprises me. I also don’t see any balls of bacteria mixed in with the inflammation, either. Then there’s all this deco going on around the ulcer, it’s a real puzzle. I just don’t know.”
“Let’s check out the blood smear from the injured Marine,” I said, removing the skin slide from under the microscope, exchanging it for the blood smear.
“Well, he looks a little anemic; the red blood cells are a little pale but they seem okay for the most part. There are a few with some basophilic stippling, see the little purple dots in the red blood cells? The platelets are not doing anything unusual,” I dragged out my words, thinking to myself as I moved the slide around the stage.
“There seems to be more white blood cells than there should be, which you would expect with an infection, so that’s not too much of a surprise.” I sat back in the chair and shook my head. What did it all mean? Something was going on, the changes we were seeing under the microscope were trying to tell me their secret, I just hadn’t figured out their language yet.
“The skin changes point to an inflammatory condition, but they are atypical for a virus or bacteria; it almost looks autoimmune, but no autoimmune disease can pass from person to person like this. The blood smear changes are very subtle. The slight anemia and basophilic stippling could be a toxin, but then there is the increased white cell count that is screaming infection. I just can’t figure out how it all ties together,” I lamented. “We need more tissue. We need a zombie!”
I stood up and walked up to the two Marines standing guard outside the laboratory door, “Guys, I need to catch a zombie. I need more tissue, I need to see what is going inside these things. Let’s go do a little roof-top shopping!”
We headed up to the roof. The Driftwood had dispersed quite a bit compared to earlier in the day and they were moving slower. If we could get one alone, close to the building, it should be easy picking. I doubted the visitors in the body storage cooler would be ready for any testing yet.
“What’s your plan, Doc?” asked the commanding officer on the roof.
“Well, I am not too sure, I’m open to suggestions. I was thinking we should take a look around. If we see one close to one of the loading docks, then we shoot it and drag it into the building. Someone will have to be down there waiting, the noise of the gun fire is bound to draw others to the area,” I said, giving the impression that I had done this sort of thing a thousand times. “We have to be careful not to blow the head to bits; we need to see what’s in the brain. Do you have something low-velocity that might hit the head from this distance but not pop their heads like a balloon?”
“I have a 9mm Glock, at this distance it should penetrate the skull and leave it pretty much intact,” replied the commanding officer.
We spent several minutes watching the street. Without hum of electricity, or the whoosh of passing cars, the town was quiet. There was a gentle breeze blowing trash along the roadways and the air smelled like a landfill in the summer; the stink of burning decay filled our nostrils.
There were about ten to twenty Driftwood dragging themselves along the street in front of the hospital. None of them close to the loading dock.
“Maybe we can do something to get the attention of one of them, maybe go down to the loading dock, open the door and yell ‘dinner is served!’” I suggested. “They’re pretty spread out. If we could attract one, we could probably grab it before the others even noticed.”
No one jumped at my idea and my suggestion was met with blank stares.
“There could be hundreds of them in the buildings across the street. They could come running from anywhere. Remember what happened to the idiots who tried to make a run for it?” said one of the Marines.
My reply was cut off by a noise coming from the street. The dull hum transformed into a shrill buzz as it grew louder; it was accompanied by a continuous, rhythmic ‘pop’, ‘pop’.
“What the hell is that?” asked the commanding officer. “It sounds like an engine. And gun fire!”
We looked out over the street and saw a small black dot followed by a dirty gray cloud moving in our direction. Soon the dark SUV was speeding past the hospital, nearly out of control, swerving left and right. The top was opened and several men were hanging off the sides, firing rifles at anything that moved.
The targeted Driftwood dropped to the ground. The street became littered with their fallen bodies. Ebony fluid oozed from the corpses and on to the pavement.
Their victory was temporary. In a matter of seconds the bulletridden carcasses began to rise. One by one they stood, and staggered towards the SUV, unnoticed by the men inside the vehicle.
“Hold your fire, they’re not shooting as us, they’re looters!” yelled the commanding officer. He grabbed his radio and called the police barracks.
The SUV turned sharply, and came to a halt in front of a series of buildings that lined the main street. It was difficult to see from the roof, but it looked like the building housed a grocery store, a hardware store, and a drug store.
Four men jumped out of the back of the SUV. Two men took up positions at the rear of the vehicle, one of them dressed in a police uniform. They fired their weapons into the street without pause. The other two men headed for the stores.
The racket served as a wakeup call for every Driftwood in the area. The beasts shambled out of the surrounding buildings, limping and shuffling in the direction of the commotion. I could hear their growls over the sound of exploding ammunition.
The street filled from every direction. The armed men twisted left and right spraying bullets into the advancing horde. The barrage knocked several Driftwood to the ground, blowing the arms and legs off of some; those still possessing upper extremities dug their decaying fingers into the pavement, wiggling like worms trying to move forward.
“Cover them!” yelled the Commanding officer and the roof instantly rang with gun fire. The soldiers picked off the Driftwood with well-placed head shots.
The men on the ground looked up at us and returned fire in our direction. Their momentary lapse of attention to the approaching gang of Driftwood allowed the creatures to move closer to the SUV. Our attempt at assistance was more of a distraction, giving the mob an opportunity to surround the looters.
“Oh, you stupid shits, we’re not shooting at you! God damn it!” one of the Marines exclaimed.
“Hold fire, hold fire!” screamed the commanding officer. “If they can’t figure out we’re trying to help them, fuck them. I ain’t losing one of my men for that pile of crap, everyone down!”
We lowered our bodies, leaving our heads just above the ledge so we could see what was happening.
The man behind the wheel of the SUV honked the horn, alerting the others inside the building that it was time to leave. The two looters ran out, chased by Driftwood. The men jumped into the back of the truck, stolen goods falling from their arms.
The invaders were surrounded and their gunfire intensified. Driftwood clung to the side of the vehicle. They climbed over each other trying to get a taste of living flesh. The hungry pack rocked the SUV back and forth, trying to overturn it. One of the men was pulled from the truck. His friends grasped at him, but it was no use, he disappeared into the ravenous crowd.
One of the armed men fell back onto the floor of the vehicle, holding his arm. I could see blood gushing from under his hand. He was bitten. After a few jerking movements, the SUV backed up, crushing the Driftwood under its tires. The truck managed to turn around, and headed back past the hospital.
One man stood and extended a bright reflective metal shaft above his head. He swung the weapon at the throngs. The driver of the SUV floored it, and the truck took off with a screech, plowing over Driftwood as it tore past the hospital.
As they drove under us I saw the silver blade strike one of the Driftwood, sending its head rolling down the sidewalk. The truck disappeared into the town and the sound of its engine faded.
The Driftwood, unbothered, resumed wandering through the streets. The pack dissipated leaving the scene as empty as it was before the excitement. The only evidence of the event was a blood smear on the ground from the body of one of the looters. There was no sign of his carcass, his remains rested in the bowels of the walking dead.
“That was insane!” said one of the Marines. “Couldn’t they see we were trying to help them? There comes a time when you have to look at the bigger picture, who gives a fuck in a situation like this if you’re stealing, you’re doing it to survive, it’s living versus dead now, get with the game!”
The commanding officer looked at me. “I think we may have to rethink the plan to get you a zombie, Doc. There’re just too many of them. Speed isn’t the issue, its numbers.”
I scanned the street below us. “Well, there may be an easier way. There are a bunch of bodies just lying in the street. Those two over there are pretty close. We won’t have to fire a shot, I think we can sneak out and grab them before we get noticed,” I said, pointing to a pile Driftwood lying about 100 feet from the loading dock. “Let’s go get them!”
“Are you out of your mind? Did you just see what happened down there?” one of the Marines snapped.
“Sir, with all due respect, the only way to stop what we saw down there is to find out what is causing it; and the only way to find out what is causing it, is to get those bodies!” I said, my voice rising in volume as I spoke.
“Alright, let’s do it. Doc is right,” the commanding officer said. “What’s your plan?”
“My plan is pretty simple, we go down to the loading dock, we slip out, grab the bodies and slip back in. I take four men as back up and one other person to help me carry the bodies. The rest of you stay up here and hope for the best,” I paused. “And, ah oh yeah, shoot anything that comes near us!”
I leaned over the ledge of the roof, “Alright, who wants to come help me drag these things off the street?”
I was surprised when four Marines immediately raised their hands. One other soldier offered to help me carry the remains. These men were built to survive on adrenalin, and what could be more exhilarating than stepping into a street filled with zombies ready to attack and eat you?
The six of us made our way through the hospital. “I think we should bring a couple of stretchers, once we drag the bodies into the building we can put them on the gurneys, and wheel them to the morgue,” I said and started to push a stretcher down the hall.
We rode the elevator to the basement and stepped out into an unlit corridor. The rays from our flashlights glided over a series of windowless storage rooms. Further down the hall we passed the kitchen. It was dark and smelled stale. I imagined the food tasted horrible. The beams from my flashlight glistened off the stainless steel culinary equipment. No one spoke. The squeak of the rusted gurney wheels reverberated off the concrete walls. We turned a corner and faced a large steel door sealing the loading zone.
The loading dock was located on the side of the hospital, but close to the main entrance. The street out front bent softly into the driveway leading to the service door. The door opened out onto a platform that was about four feet off the ground, just about the height of a tractor trailer container. The gap meant that we would have to lift the bodies onto the platform before dragging them into the building.
We stood silently behind the sealed doorway, breathing heavily, our clothes clinging to our bodies in the heat.
“Ok, we open the door,” I said, motioning towards my assistant. “You and you, stay back and guard the door,” I said, pointing at two of the Marines. “You two follow us out, stay on either side of us,” I said to the last two volunteers.
I looked at my assistant, “I’ll grab the one that is furthest out, you grab the closer one. Try to pull from the arm pits and drag ‘em to the door.”
One of the Marines grabbed my collar, “Quick and fast, Doc. Stay low, and don’t make a sound. Don’t attract attention.” He then turned his head to the radio receiver strapped to his shoulder and spoke, “Ok, we’re ready. Over.”
A voice squawked through the speaker, “Received, we’ve got your back.”
Everyone made eye contact. One of the Marines knelt down, grasping the door handle; he gave a ‘thumbs up’ with his free hand and began to lift the door. Bright sunlight rushed in, illuminating our feet in a warm, yellow glow. I squinted, protecting my eyes. My heart was pounding, my breathing became heavier and heavier.
We slipped under the door, and knelt on the platform. I swiveled my head, my eyes swiftly scanning the area for threats. The coast was clear.
There was another ‘thumbs up’ and four of us slid off the platform, our feet silently pressing on the paved driveway. Hunched over and walking like gorillas, we made our way out into the open lot. Sweat was pouring from my forehead. I wiped the stinging fluid from my eyes with my sleeve. I heard buzzing, at first I thought it was my pulse, but then I realized it was coming from the air around me. Blow flies. The insects whipped around in the breeze like fog, covering everything in sight, their shiny green scales reflected the sun making them look like Christmas lights. They landed on my arms, my chest, my face, I tried to brush them away, but they stuck to me, filling my nose and mouth. I spat and blew out my nose. I inhaled deeply and was overcome by the stench drifting through the town. It smelled like unchanged kitty litter, the scent was so strong I could taste it.