Our Undead (55 page)

Rosa:
Yes.
Abe. That's the one. Also, I believe that your teammates are there,
as well, Erika. Actually, the General came in here about five
minutes ago complaining about how everyone has disappeared, but we
cant help it. We made some fascinating discoveries during the
night. We're all so tired, but we have to keep working. I'm just
cleaning up here, but I plan to make my way there
afterward.

Billy:
(sighs)
We're missing
everything.

Margaret:
No, we're not. Erika, can
you
take us to
D-9?

Erika:
Sure, we can go now. We have room for one more. Can we give
you a ride too Rosa?

Rosa:
No.
No, thank you. There's still work to be done here, but I'll see you
there in the next hour or so.

Erika:
All
right. We'll see you there.

Billy and Margaret also bid
Rosa farewell, and the three of them leave Laboratory A-1. Rosa
goes back to sorting and storing the equipment.

<><><>

Doctor Alyster's laboratory
is a contrast of its usual gloomy ambience. He followed General
Feleider's suggestion and turned all of the lights on. In the rear
of the lab, past the bookshelves and clutter, where he observes and
examines patients, the good doctor's lab actually looks like a
legitimate treatment facility. Back there, two soldiers sit
upright, facing each other on neighboring beds, waiting to be
processed.

Both men are young,
enthusiastic soldiers, infantrymen told that they had been hand
selected to receive an advanced cure and preventative for the
Crater Lake Contagion. Initially, they were extremely honored and
excited to be the first two recipients of the cure, but as they sit
inside the lab, one of the clueless test subjects begins to feel an
uncertainty in his gut about the whole setup. His nervous vibes are
very evident. The second young man he sits across from is
considerably calmer. Doctor Alyster walks in between the two of
them readying himself for the proceedings, with his tools strewn
atop a medical tray that stands in between the beds, as
well.

Dr. Alyster:
So!
(coughs)
Vhich von of you vants to go
first?

The men gauge each other,
each feeling the other out to see who would be more likely to go
first, to see who has more balls. The bolder of the two proudly
volunteers first.

Erikson:
I'll go first. I don't wanna catch no contagions. Inoculate
me, doc.

Dr. Alyster:
Take off your shirt und lie facedown.

The eager but ignorant
fighter follows the doctor’s instructions and slips off his white
t-shirt.

Palmer:
Good on ya, man. I can wait my turn. I got no problem with
that.

Dr. Alyster:
Don't vorry. It vill come soonah zhan you
expect.

Erikson gets into place,
laying facedown on his operation bed, fitting his face comfortably
down into its head space. The doctor already has his things in
order and promptly begins preparing the patient's lower back for
injection. He wipes it down.

Dr. Alyster:
First, I vill put in zhe anesthesia.

Palmer:
That's a… That's a pretty big needle.

Dr. Alyster:
Yes! And your friend had bettah not move or it could be
fatal.

The doctor is over
exaggerating, of course, but his patient makes sure to settle down
quickly. As soon as the doctor concedes that the man is completely
motionless, he pops the five or six inch needle down into the
patient's spine. Palmer flinches from where he sits when he sees
the doctor prick his comrade.

Palmer:
Fuck me. Man, did you feel that?

Erikson:
It wasn't that bad.

Dr. Alyster:
Next, I am going to inject zhe antidote.
(coughs)

The next needle Doctor
Alyster picks up is a couple of inches larger than the first. The
barrel is filled with a transparent and muggy brownish fluid.
Alyster takes a close up look at its contents and lightly taps the
side of the barrel's delicate glass.

Palmer:
Aw
shit, Erikson. This one looks wild.

Erikson:
There's no going back now, man. Go, doc,
go!

On his word Doctor Alyster
thrusts the needle down, and Erikson feels the painless prick of
its point enter his back. When it reaches as far as it can go,
Doctor Alyster compresses the syringe and lets the upgraded version
of E-TE12 spread into and throughout the unsuspecting soldier's
nervous system. He pushes down until the entire barrel is empty,
and then slides the needle out in one quick motion.

Dr. Alyster:
Finished. How do you feel?

Erikson:
I
feel just fine.

Dr. Alyster:
Good. Stay zhere for five minutes. It's your friend's
turn.

Palmer:
Damn, that
was
sooner than I expected. Erikson, you sure you're
okay?

Erikson:
I
feel great. Stop being such a coward. What kind of soldier are you,
Palmer? Goddamn, I think this antidote has my damn sinuses clearing
up. Doctor, this place smells
horrible!

Dr. Alyster:
It's not a flowah shop.
(coughs)
Your shirt,
boy.

Palmer:
All right. If you say you're feeling good. Bring it on,
doctor.

The nervous man composes
himself to his partner's reassuring words. He takes his own t-shirt
off and gets into position, laying facedown on his own bed. Doctor
Alyster quickly gets right into beginning the procedure over again;
rubbing the patient's lower back and injecting him with lidocaine,
this time without warning. Palmer yelps in pain, more like
surprise, but the doctor ignores him and carries on.

Palmer:
You can at least give me a warning.

Dr. Alyster:
Zhis cannot be your first experience vit vaccinations. You
should be used to it.

Palmer:
Yea, I could
still
use a warning.

Erikson:
Would ya just let the doctor do his job? The man clearly
knows what he's doing. Not only are my sinuses clear, my body
actually feels lighter. I feel like I just chugged like,
five
energy
drinks. Trust me, it'll be worth it.

Erikson looks at the palm
of his right hand, examining it as if super powers have just been
bestowed upon him, while again, his words relax his fellow soldier.
Alyster comes back tapping another full syringe of microscopic
cyber-parasites.

Dr. Alyster:
Now, zhen! This is your varning.

Palmer:
Thank y-

Doctor Alyster sticks the
man with the needle before he can even respond with any
confirmation of even receiving his warning. Palmer's body tenses
up, still having to experience the unexpected element he had been
trying to avoid in the first place. But he relaxes himself,
remembering the doctor's warning about the possibility of
death.

Palmer:
Heh,.. heh heh.. Feels uhh,… Feels weird.

Doctor Alyster empties this
barrel completely into the man, and then slips the needle back out.
He dabs the entry point with a swab of cotton.

Dr. Alyster:
How vas it?

Palmer:
Hm, not bad.

Dr. Alyster:
Good. Now, you lay heer for five minutes, as
vell.

The good doctor begins
putting his things away, all the while questioning his test
subjects.

Dr. Alyster:
Erikson… How are you feeling now?

Erikson:
Still feel great. Never felt better in my life. I don't think
I have to lie down anymore.

He springs up energetically
and goes back to his upright, seated position on his
bed.

Palmer:
You know something? I think I'm beginning to feel what you're
talking about. I swear to God, I think I can
see
better. Is this some sort of
miracle drug? I feel like I'm wearing my glasses.

Erikson:
Doctor, what kind of cure is this? It's like a super drug.
Like, I've felt the effects of some serious meds in the past, like,
meds… like, you know what I mean… but never has any of the stuff
I've taken made me feel like this. I feel…
powerful.

Dr. Alyster:
Sit still.

Doctor Alyster takes a hold
of the man's wrist and studies his pulse, then stands in front of
him and holds a small light up to his eyes.

Dr. Alyster:
Follow zhis light, but only vit your eyes.

Palmer:
Oh
look, you're getting a sobriety test.

Erikson:
Heh, haven't had to do one of these in a while. How am I
doing, officer?

Dr. Alyster:
Fine, fine. Open your mout.

Next, Alyster takes a
wooden tongue depressor and presses the patient's tongue down. He
shines the same small light down the young man's throat and peers
down his esophagus with one eye shut. The soldier tries to speak
with the oversized Popsicle stick in his mouth, but his words come
out as gibberish.

Palmer:
Erikson, it's not polite to talk with your mouth full. We
don't know what the hell you're saying.

Dr. Alyster:
No, vee do not.

The stubborn and newly
invigorated Erikson tries to speak with his mouth full again. This
time his nonsensical sentence is cutoff by a violent cough that
hits Doctor Alyster square in his old mug. From his horizontal
position, lying on the mattress, the first soldier can't see Doctor
Alyster's face. His view of it is blocked by the doctor's back. He
hears his friend cough again and witnesses Doctor Alyster move
harshly backward. The good doctor turns away from the coughing
Erikson, wiping his face with his sleeve, and his front side is
revealed to the patient Palmer, still laying down.

Palmer:
What the hell is that!?

Doctor Alyster's face and
much of the front of his coat have been sprayed with blood from
Erikson's mouth. Erikson's coughing persists, and blood continues
to sprinkle heavily from his mouth with each one. He belts them out
more frequently, and starts convulsing fiercely. His counterpart
jumps off of his bed, frightened for his own life.

Palmer:
What the hell did you do to him?! What the hell did you give
us?

The doctor looks back at
the spasming volunteer and tries to settle his body down on the
bed. He manages to lay Erikson on his back, even as the coughing
and spitting up of blood continues. It splashes up into the old
man's face as if it is the canvass, and the blood is the paint, in
the middle of a red themed action painting jam. Even so, Doctor
Alyster manages to hold the raging Erikson down.

Soon enough, Erikson's body
begins to quiet itself. Alyster keeps his hands pressed firmly
against the young soldier's shoulders just in case, but eventually,
the possible future veteran sputters his last incomprehensible
utterance and breathes his last breath. The bright crimson rolls
down the sides of his face, especially from his mouth, and his eyes
stare vacantly off into his partner Palmer's direction. Palmer
stares directly at Erikson's dead face, speechless.

The majority of Doctor
Alyster's face is red, covered in blood polka dots of a variety of
sizes. He cautiously releases the once convulsing man and feels for
Erikson's pulse again. Behind Alyster, Palmer stands watching and
hyperventilating.

Palmer:
Don't tell me he's dead. Don't you frigging tell me that he's
dead!!

Dr. Alyster:
It would seem zhat zhat is zhe case.

Doctor Alyster turns around
so that he can speak to Palmer to his face. He finally wipes his
own face off, but with his sleeves that already have quite a lot of
blood on them.

Dr. Alyster:
(coughs)
It vasn't ready, aftah
all.

Palmer:
What're you talking about?! Ready!? What kind of rushed cure
is this?!

Dr. Alyster:
It's not a cure, you fool. Just relax und tell me how you
feel. Your fate may not be zhe same as your
friend's.