The Neuropathology Of Zombies (6 page)

I dialed the number and waited. It took three rings for her to get to the phone, it felt like an eternity.
“Hello?”
“Hey funky chicken, how is life on the farm?”
“Oh, you know, the animals don’t sleep unless the farmer is here to put them in the barn!” She laughed and sounded strong. I knew she and the kids would be okay.
“Well, I am going to be a bit. I’ll give you a buzz when I get the chance. Just wanted to say good night.”
“All right, have fun!”
After we hung up I held onto the phone for a few seconds, not wanting to let go. I walked back out to the tarmac and watched the landing lights of an approaching jet flicker in the dark.
As we all piled back onto the plane. General Fitch slapped me on the back, “Next stop: Hell!” He sat next to me and showed me a map, pointing his finger to a small intersection.
“Here,” he said. “This is a small hospital, 40 beds. Has a freezer box and a slab room for you. A few other nice toys, too. The rich don’t fuck with their health, even on vacation.”
“How safe is it?” I asked.
“Well, I don’t know. We landed a helicopter on the roof and sent in a team. The building’s empty, but it’s surrounded by Driftwood, they’re just wandering around the outside, congregating at the two main doors. The main doors are locked, and right now we’re trying to figure out how we can better secure them. Maybe get a barricade built around them. We’ve got enough guns, and the Driftwood move pretty slow, so we can make a pretty good dent in them with the chopper and work from there. We’ll have it secure by morning.
I stared out the window for most of the flight. I wasn’t asleep, but I wasn’t awake, I was somewhere in-between, in a dream-like state, confused and in disbelief of my current situation. I was snapped out of my trance by the General telling me we were getting ready to land.
The plane banked hard to the left. I looked out of the window and watched the two rows of lights outlining the deck of the aircraft carrier grow larger as we descended.
“Get ready, Doc,” the General laughed.

********************************

I stood off to the side, close to the control tower, and watched the dark outlines of people running around with incredible amounts of energy. Helicopters were landing and taking off constantly. A continuous stream of fighter jets launched into the sky, the cool night air was shattered by the sound waves exploding from their powerful engines. I could feel my body vibrate with the noise.

I thought of my father. He was a pilot in the Navy. I didn’t see much of him while I was growing up, he was always at sea. I wondered if he ever landed a plane on the deck of the ship I was currently standing on.

The General came over to me and said that our group was ready and we’d be heading off in a few minutes. My initial shock was beginning to wear off and I was becoming nervous, and excited. A real zombie? What were the chances?

I was directed to our helicopter. Once on board I was greeted by a man clad in a blue dress uniform who introduced himself as Dr. George Allen, one of the physicians from the aircraft carrier. He told me his area of expertise was internal medicine and that he had been asked to come and examine an injured police officer. The internist was older than me, I felt at ease.

Next to him was an edgy little man wearing beige fatigues who stated he was one of the medics working on the project. He was bursting with nervous energy, almost manic. I wasn’t sure if it was exhaustion or insanity. He spoke rapidly and without pause, “Doc, you’ve gotta see ‘em. It’s crazy. They walk around, slow as shit, kind of shuffling along with bowel, heart, you name it, in their hands, hanging out of their mouths. There’s blood everywhere. You can shoot ‘em, but they just keep on coming, no affect what so ever. Hit ‘em in the head, bang, they go down. Not only that, get this, Doc, the people they kill, become Driftwood themselves. Cut the head off, it keeps talking. It’s out of this fucking world. Seriously.”

He stopped to take a breath and while I had an opportunity I asked him if they had any theories as to what was happening.
“No, not really,” he replied, more measured and in control now. “We haven’t had a chance to do much yet. We need a place to work. There’s a lab space set up in the parking lot of the police station, but it’s not nearly sufficient enough to tackle this. I hear the hospital has some things, it’s better than the parking lot, anyway. We’ve just been making observations and trying to come up with a plan to catch a few and see what is making them tick. But for that we need a safe place to keep them and some sort of an idea as to what to do with them!”
The medic sat back as the helicopter lifted off the deck. The General leaned over and yelled, “We should be there in 20. You bring a clean pair of shorts? You might need them when you see this place!”
It was still too dark to make out any detail on the ground as we hovered over the police station, slowly descending onto the roof. We landed with a jolt and the sound of the rotors began to slow to a dull hum and then silenced.
“Well, here we be, welcome to Camp Hell, Doc!” the General yelled.
I motioned to the internist to go ahead of me, I exited the door after him and the medic followed me on to the rooftop.
“I guess we should get started. Let me take you down to meet the rest of the team,” the General said as he disappeared down the staircase.
I stopped for a second and tried to look out over the town. It was veiled in darkness, not a light anywhere. There was a distinct smell in the air, coming and going with the gentle breeze. It wasn’t human decomposition, it wasn’t garbage, but something like the two of them combined. My mind flashed back to a case many years ago when someone found a body in a trash dumper; the dismembered and decomposing corpse had deliquesced, covering the plastic garbage bags and bits of newspaper with a rancid smelling slime. The collective rotten stench disseminated several feet from the dumpster, I could smell it from the street, fifty feet away. The aroma of the Island was very similar.
The parking lot was alive with activity. Marines in full battle gear were busy unpacking various types of electronic equipment. A group of men wearing white biohazard suits with attached respirators were standing near the side entrance to the police station; they were huddled close together involved in an animated discussion.
The sound of shouting caught my attention and I saw General Fitch standing in the middle of several men in blue uniforms, I presumed they were the local police. They were all trying to raise their voices above each other’s, demanding to be heard. The General extended his arms and waved them by this side attempting to quiet them.
“You have to tell us what is going on! I am not going to allow you to invade our Island and send my officers out on death missions!” shouted one of the police officers.
“I’m sorry, Chief, but I can’t tell you what’s happening, because I don’t know,” the General said sympathetically. “We are not invading your Island, we are working under the direction of your Governor.”
“You are a liar, just like the rest of your government. I want to know where my men are and why you have not been able to protect them! I also demand to speak to the Governor!” the Chief shouted back at the General, the other police officers jeering behind him.
“I am telling you everything I know. We sent your men out to assist us with the perimeter, they bolted, they abandoned us! The Lieutenant here tells me they were last seen heading for the caves outside of town,” Fitch shot back, slightly annoyed.
“Impossible!” shouted the Chief, instantly stomping his foot and standing at attention. “I demand you to take us to the perimeter and allow us to police our own people!”
The General rubbed his chin and stared into space. “How about this compromise, I need you here, Chief, to help with the organization of this operation. You know the terrain, and I could use your insight. You can have a radio and try to reach your men, if you can find them, we’ll go get them. With your permission, I’d like to send the rest of your officers out to the aircraft carrier, there they can help keep watch over the survivors. It might be nice for your citizens to see a familiar face; your men may have a calming effect on the masses.”
The police chief stood silent for a minute, and then nodded his head in agreement. “I will need one officer here with me as an assistant and I will need to be kept informed of any situational changes,” he replied with a slightly defiant tone.
“Agreed!” exclaimed the General, extending his hand to the police chief.
The General looked in my direction and rolled his eyes. He waved me forward. “Doctor, let me introduce you to the rest of your team.”

*******************************

I was standing under a tent talking with the other members of the scientific team. The microbiologist and the virologist were about my age, which was a comfort as the rest of the men running around the barracks looked like teenagers. We discussed what was available for equipment and what was rumored to be at the hospital.

While we spoke, the nervous medic from the helicopter began to don a biohazard coverall. “You want to see one, Doc?” he asked.
“See one what?” I replied.
“A Driftwood, you want to meet one?” he repeated.
“Yes, I would be very interested to take a look,” I answered.
He led me into the side of the police station and put a key into the door leading to the jail cells. As he turned the key he tilted his head to look at me and asked, “Are you ready?”
“Yes, let’s take a look!” I said, with some degree of excitement.
He opened the door and I was overcome by the unpleasant smell. My face must have given me away because the medical officer told me they looked as bad as they smelled.
“Well, Doc, meet Igor and Igor, meet Doc!” He said as he raised his hand toward a cell in the far corner of the prison block.
Behind the bars, pacing around in circles, was Igor. As I moved closer he stopped, turned, and looked directly at me. He was wearing a blue police uniform. His gray skin seemed to absorb all the light from the overhead fluorescent bulbs giving it a dull appearance. His lips were black and dry, the skin around his mouth parched and wrinkled. His jaw hung open, exposing his teeth, and foamy mucus dripped from the corners of his mouth. He looked like a rabid animal. I stood in front of the cell and he clumsily came toward me with his legs held far apart and his feet making a ‘flop’ sound each time they hit the floor. The stink was overwhelming. It was a stale and rotten stench with a subtle underlying sweetness. The smell was so strong, you could almost touch it. It reminded me of the fishing docks in Maine at the end of a hot August afternoon, after the unused bait sat baking in the blazing sun for the entire day.
Igor lumbered closer. His nostrils flared and his head tilted back. He was sniffing me. He growled and raised his arms, and lunged at me. The bars of the jail cell stopped him with a ‘thud’. His swung his upper extremities franticly between the rails, grabbing at me. His frenzied movements fanned the awful stench through the air, swirling it around our heads.
For the first time I could see his eyes. They were clouded over and I could barely make out the dilated pupils from behind the deadened gray haze. I leaned in to get a closer look. He got a hold of my shirt. The medical officer struck Igor with something, I couldn’t see what, and Igor released me. I caught a glimpse of Igor’s hands and noticed the dark purple outlines of his veins. They gave his skin a marbled appearance.
“Don’t get too close, Doc, Igor doesn’t play nice,” the medical officer said as he opened the door to the main area of the police station. We walked silently back to the parking lot and I sat down under one of the lab tents.
“Well, what’d ya think of ol’ Igor, Doc?” the General asked.
“I don’t know what to think, I have no idea what’s going on. This is bizarre,” I said.

CHAPTER 4

The sun was just beginning to creep up over the edge of the sea and a thin pink-orange line separated the ocean from the sky. I sighed, and my mind went blank.

“Does anyone have an idea on where the hell we should even start?”

I said.
“First, we need blood. We need to see what’s in their blood,”
replied one of the scientists sitting behind me.
“Yes, I agree, we need blood. Any volunteers to go stick our good
buddy, Igor?” I laughed. “How are we going to collect samples, he isn’t
going to ‘sit and stay’ for us.”
A voice came from my left, “Tie him down or something. He’s
pretty damn slow, and we have him in the cell. We could overpower him
with numbers, bind his hands and feet.”
“And put a fucking muzzle on him!” Fitch quipped.
“Ok, let’s do it. We’ll need restraints and four of your biggest men,
General. They should wear biohazard suits as well, just in case. We still
don’t know what this is or how it’s transmitted,” I said.
“Next we need to figure out where and how this started. Where was
the first case, the hotel?” I asked.
“Yes, as far as we know the first several incidents were at the Marina
Star,” the General replied.
“Where is Igor’s partner? How is his health? We’ll need some of his
blood, too. Who else was there?” I stood up, my confidence building as I
felt a plan taking shape.
“I was the other officer at the hotel, Doctor,” stated a short and
muscular man. He stepped out from the shadows surrounding us and into
the dim yellow light of the lanterns.
“I am sorry,” I said, and put my hand on his shoulder. We held eye contact for a few seconds and he rolled his sleeve up for
the blood draw.
“How are you feeling?” I asked.
“I feel fine, all things considered,” he replied.
I looked around the tent for Fitch, “General, I need to get in to the
hotel.”
“I was afraid you were going to say that, Doc.” he replied, shaking
his head.
Night was quickly becoming day and the sky was glowing
incandescent blue and red. I walked out of the tent hoping to take a stroll
around the barracks to gather my thoughts. As I headed off, I called to the
General, “Oh, this is going to take more than forty eight four hours, you
better tell the President to duck and cover,” I paused, “And quick!” I rounded the back of the building trying to escaping the noise of
the generators and the sound of boots shuffling on pavement. It wasn’t
totally silent, but it was the quietest place I was going to find for a while. I
could hear the disembodied groans coming from the other side of the wall.
There must have been a couple of thousand of them out there. Their growls
blurred together and crept over the barricade, gloomily rumbling like the
thunder from an approaching storm. I stopped and just listened. Under the
cries I heard their soft flesh hitting against the wall, and the dull dragging
sound of them clawing at the brick.
Having done a compete circle around the compound, I rejoined the
others. The sky was now brightly lit and I could make out the tips of the tall
palm trees extending above the top of the wall. Their green leaves fluttered
in the wind.