The Neuropathology Of Zombies (20 page)

“Along the outside of the eye, or the white part when you are looking at someone, there is a bit of inflammation; conjunctivitis. It’s pretty common with viral infections; it’s why your eyes get red and runny. Not a big deal, but it’s there. Now, if we look at the retina, the nerve cells appear to be ok. They’re not degenerating or inflamed. But, look just under the retina, see this dark brown layer? It’s the pigmented epithelium and it’s inflamed; there are loads of chronic inflammatory cells throughout the epithelium. The lymphocytes don’t appear to be invading the retina, though.”
I sighed and leaned back in my chair. “This brain is so strange. It’s decomposing in parts and there’s encephalitis with no neuronal damage. The distribution of inflammation is so random, there’s no pattern.” I was confused.
“What do you think is going on?” the microbiologist asked.
“Well,” I thought for a moment before continuing, “The cortex is gone, the brainstem is intact, the basal ganglia are intact, parts of the limbic system are intact, the cerebellum is deco, the sensory nerves are shot, the eyes are mildly inflamed. The preserved parts of the brain are horribly inflamed and the degenerating parts are unaffected by this mystery virus.”
“You’re pretty sure it’s a virus?” one of the Marines asked.
“I am positive,” I answered, looking at the virologist. He nodded in agreement.
“How are they catching it, Doc?” another soldier questioned.
“I don’t know. If we can figure out what it’s doing, and how it’s doing it, we might have a better shot at answering that question. We do know one thing, it’s shed in the saliva, otherwise you couldn’t catch it from a bite. That’s our one constant, and our only real clue!” I said.
Our conversation was interrupted by the sound of someone in the doorway. It was one of the Marines assigned to the internist.
“He’s dead. The doctor wants you to come, quick!” he yelled.
We jumped to our feet and ran towards the door.

CHAPTER 27

I raced down the hallway ahead of the others, the noise of the soldier’s boots striking the floor sounded like thunder behind me. Although the distance was only a few hundred feet, we were all panting when we arrived at the elevator. I could feel the adrenalin burning in my veins and my body tingled with each beat of my heart. I pressed the ‘up’ arrow and heard the hiss of the hydraulic pump. I kept frantically pressing the button until the bell rang and the doors opened. We stepped inside and I held the ‘2’ down trying to hurry the doors closed. “Come on, come on, close!” I yelled.

The elevator rose to the second floor filled with a heavy stillness. Dr. Allen was waiting for us when the doors opened. Dressed in a white coat and obscured by darkness, he looked like a ghost floating in the corridor. He paced in circles, hands resting on his hips.
“Good, come quick,” he said, and waved us down the hallway. The unremitting high-pitched alarms coming from the various

monitors attached to the Marine screeched louder as I ran down the corridor. When I reached the room, Allen was standing next to the body, staring blankly at me. I scanned the heart rate and breathing monitors, the lines were flat. I looked at the screen of the EEG machine; it was flat lined as well.

“He’s gone,” I said. I reached over the bed and turned off the heart and breathing monitors. I looked at the body for a moment; somehow it appeared heavier as it settled lifelessly into the mattress.

“Let’s leave the EEG hooked up and see what happens to the brain as he reanimates,” I said, sitting in the chair at the head of the bed. I straightened the screen on the laptop computer that was processing all the electrical signals from the brain so I could have a better view.

While I waited I flipped through the pages that contained the data from the past few hours of brain activity. There was nothing different from the patterns we had seen earlier. I read over the last two pages. The erratic spikes and jagged lines began to slowly smooth out and eventually evolved into a straight line. Brain death.

The printouts in my hands summarized the last few moments of the Marine’s life. I wondered what thoughts created these lines and I wondered what my last thoughts would be.

My philosophical daydreaming was interrupted by Allen’s voice, “I didn’t notice anything change over the past few hours. If the machines hadn’t gone crazy, I never would have known he was dead.”

“How long ago did the alarms go off?”
“Right before I sent for you, so maybe 15 minutes ago, now.” “It was how long before Igor reanimated?”
“It’s hard to be sure, thirty or forty minutes, I think.” “Alright, so now we wait.”
“What are we going to do when he wakes up? Do we have a plan?”

Allen asked nervously.
“Our goal’s to see if we can understand this process. Once he
reanimates and we have some EEG data of that progression, I don’t think
we have any other choice but to...”
One of the Marines interrupted, “I’m going to shoot him in the
head.”
The voice came from behind me. I turned. It was the young Marine
who had pulled me aside in the hallway yesterday. I smiled, and turned back
to Dr. Allen and continued to speak, “Then this Marine is going to shoot
him in the head.”
I returned to watching the EEG readout. There were currently
seven regions of the brain being recorded. I had no idea what I should be
looking for, so I shifted my eyes from line to line hoping something would
happen. A hushed crowd gathered around me, peeking over my shoulder,
watching the computer screen.
“If anyone sees a blip in one of these lines, shout out, okay?” I said. My eyes were tired and the streaming flat black lines were like white
noise, or the yellow strips on a long, flat stretch of highway, I began to feel
sleepy and I felt my head begin to bob.
“Hold on, Doc, we can’t lose you know!” one of the Marines
yelled.
“Yeah, I know you see this sort of shit all the time, but how can you
possibly fall asleep right now? This guy’s about to become a zombie. Good
thing we’re here or you’d be lunch!” another Marine laughed. I shot a quick glance towards the childhood friend of the dead
Marine, his face was long and emotionless. I was certain that no one else in
the room knew of their relationship. If they had, I am sure the joking would
have ceased. I thought about speaking up, but I left it to the soldier to
divulge his personal information.
I looked away from the screen for a minute and observed the body
lying on the bed. The skin was ashen and moist. All expression was lost
from the face, the dead muscles relaxed and gravity pulled the flesh
downwards. I always found it interesting how a lifeless body looked fake,
like a prop from a movie, or like a manikin.
“How long has it been now?” I asked, peering back at the computer
monitor.
“About thirty minutes,” Allen replied.
“Ok, everyone keep your eyes peeled, shouldn’t be too much
longer now!” I warned. I heard a gun lock and load behind me. The sound of the steel parts grinding together sent a chill through my spine and my
stomach tightened.
My eyes focused on the screen, my face scrunched and I squinted, as
if using all my mental powers to force the creature to life. I thought I saw
one of the lines move, it was a slight blip, and then it was gone. I waited a
minute, wondering if it was real, or my mind playing tricks on me. “Did anyone else see that?” I asked.
“See what?” Allen replied, sticking his head over my shoulder. “I thought I saw a blip in one of the lines.” I pointed to the screen
where I had seen the anomaly, “There, there it is again!” I exclaimed. I jumped up and leaned over the dead body looking for any sign of
life. It rested motionless. I lifted an arm and then let it go; it fell like a lead
weight to the mattress. I looked back at the EEG monitor.
“There it is again! It’s a high voltage signal, its low frequency, but
it’s really there. It looks like it’s coming from someplace other than the
cortex, it’s not really lateralizing. Looks, it’s in another lead!” I yelled. Soon all of the leads were picking up signals and the once flat lines
danced back to life, turning into sharp peaks and valleys.
“These large waves are delta waves, they’re common in sleep. And
those high amplitude, low frequency spikes are from the basal ganglia. Shit!”
I exclaimed, jabbing my finger into the screen with every new line that
appeared.
“Look, large sharp waves, those are theta waves! Unbelievable!” I
yelled.
“There are a few alpha waves popping up, too. Typically that’s seen
with extreme relaxation or an injury to the brain because of a lack of
oxygen, it’s also known as an ‘alpha-coma’!”
The scribbles of the EEG continued and we watched the body for
any evidence of movement. I grabbed the wrist and felt for a pulse, the skin
was cold and boggy under my finger; I couldn’t feel a heartbeat. I placed my
hand on the chest; the normal rhythmic ascending and descending motion
of breathing were absent. Dr. Allen parted the eyelids and aimed a small pen
light at the pupils; they were unreactive and widely dilated.
“No physical manifestations of the brain activity yet,” I said to the
crowd and returned to the seat in front of the monitor. I scanned the leads
for any changes; a new signal had appeared. It was a high rate discharge that
was coming from the midbrain. This change was followed by interpeak
latencies and delayed peak latencies from the brain stem.
“Look at these waves, the interpeak latencies in the brainstem, he
can hear us.” I said.
Then the entire tracing showed diffuse slowing of the delta and theta
waves which converted into semi-rhythmic high voltage theta waves. “Theta waves?” I asked myself.
“Doc, what’s going on?” one of the Marines questioned. “Well, the brain functions by generating shocks of electricity. This
EEG machine measures those shocks. The electrical impulses create
different shaped waves depending on where they impulse is located and what it’s doing. Most brain activity can be classified into two types of wave
patterns, alpha and beta.
“Beta waves are irregular and not synchronized, which makes sense
because they happen in the awake brain, which is firing off electricity
everywhere. The alpha waves are slower, and more synchronized, they
occur as the brain settles down and relaxes.
“There are also theta waves, which are slower frequency than alpha
waves. No one’s really sure what they mean in humans, they typically occur
with the dyssynchronous EEG pattern that happens just as someone is
waking up, so they are associated with arousal. In animals, they originate
from the hippocampus, and are seen when a mouse, rat, or whatever, is
hunting or sniffing. When the animal is eating its prey, the theta waves
become large and irregular, and are called ‘large amplitude irregular activity’
or, LIA. Some research has shown that the theta waves lead to an activation
of the brainstem and thereby increases arousal.
“Lastly, there are delta waves, these are the slowest of all the
waveforms and are associated with deep sleep.
“Anyway, other parts of the brain can produce different waves, for
example in our Marine we have waves coming from the limbic system, the
brain stem, and the basal ganglia. In the brainstem we have a high frequency
discharge coming from the midbrain; typically, these discharges occur just
before the dissynchronization of brain wave activity and the appearance of
the beta waves. Also, in the brainstem, there are waves associated with
auditory reflexes. At the end here, we have this unusual theta wave pattern. Generally speaking, this EEG has brainstem activity, but little cortical activity. I’m sure if we watched longer the cortical signals would fade
completely as it dies away.
“In short, he’s trying to wake up. All the brainstem neurons are
firing and trying to tell the cortex it’s time to rise and shine and hunt and
gather. The only thing is, the cortex isn’t listening,” I explained. Everybody circled me and watched as I drew squiggly lines on a
piece of paper trying to explain the EEG findings. I was surprised by their
attention. It wasn’t until the raspy growl filled the room that anyone noticed
something was wrong.
All of our heads turned simultaneously to face the Marine. The
ghoul had sat up, glaring at us. His yellow eyes were opened wide, the
centers looked like large dark pools. His lips retracted, the teeth were bared
in a snarl. A low rumbling moan leaked from between the dangerous fangs
and his scowl grew larger.
“Holy fuck, it’s alive!” one of the Marines yelled. Everyone jumped
back towards the doorway.
“Wait, wait, just calm down, he’s not going anywhere just yet!” I
yelled.
The reanimated corpse lifted its arms, extending them towards me.
The restraints jerked, and the creature swung its arms trying to break free.
The bed rails clanked loosely; the shackle wouldn’t hold for long. The Marines, the virologist, the microbiologist and the internist
formed a line across the back of the room. They watched in horror as the
man came back to life.
I glanced down at the EEG tracings streaking across the computer
screen and scanned the data for any changes. There was nothing new, the
predatory theta pattern dominated. I ripped the printouts from the printer
and folded them under my arms.
The corpse turned its head, looking at the row of men in the back of
the room. It let out a hiss and black fluid sprayed from its mouth. The Marine assigned the role of executioner raised his weapon and
pointed it at his old friend. “You just let me know when, Doc!” he yelled. The ghoul let out an earsplitting screech and began to thrash
ferociously against the restraints. The body rose and fell against the mattress,
the feet kicked and the arms flailed with an almost seizure like violence. He
would be free in a matter of minutes if left alone.
I moved closer, taking one last observational study of the body
before joining the line at the back of the room. The young Marine holding
the rifle was shaking.
“I think it’s time,” I said, and patted him on the shoulder. He
stepped forward.
I followed the others out into the hallway. The shot echoed
throughout the building. The howling ceased.
Dr. Allen walked over to me and began to speak, “What’s next?” “I think you should go back over your data and write up your
conclusions. While you go over your results, I am going to look over the
slides one more time,” I said.
As I was finishing my sentence, the Marine walked out of the
hospital room. His head was hung low and there were tears smeared across
his cheeks. He was at the rear of the group while we walked towards the
elevators. I slipped behind the crowd and squeezed his shoulder. He nodded
his head, but refused to make eye contact. I left him alone; I didn’t want to
attract attention to the situation. The chime of the elevator bell caused him
to refocus, and he slipped inside with the others, seemingly unaffected.