Pathogen: Revolution

Pathogen: Revolution

Kai Kiriyama

Copyright © 2016 Kai Kiriyama

Cover art by Clarissa Yeo

All rights reserved.

This book is a work of fiction.

Any similarities to events or to persons, living or dead are entirely coincidental.

ISBN-13: 978-1311294746

To the survivors.

CDC

I still don't understand why you thought that bringing a zombie here would be a good idea.

I rolled my eyes as Aurora rolled up my sleeve and snapped a rubber tourniquet into place. She was still in the same hazmat suit she'd been wearing ever since we'd first met. I wasn't entirely sure anymore if it was because she was actually afraid of infection, or if it was protocol, or if it was meant to be some sort of scare tactic, but I didn't really care to ask. She tried to hide her look of distaste as she looked at my arm and the remnants of the many needles used to extract my blood, but I saw the wince cross her face and there was a part of me that relished her look of discomfort upon seeing the angry red welts and deep purple bruises.

I still don't understand why you had your goons shoot her in the face without even giving me a chance to explain anything, I replied, bitter sarcasm dripping off each syllable as I watched Aurora choose a needle from the tray of equipment.

We have a zero-tolerance policy for the undead here, Aurora replied evenly.

You've been saying that every time you bring this up, I reminded her as she prepared the vials to take my blood. And I don't think you're using that phrase entirely appropriately.

Do you know how many people we've had show up here, dragging along their kids who have been bitten or were turning? Aurora asked me, setting aside the medical equipment.

I'm guessing lots?

We're not set up to house refugees here, Aurora continued, ignoring me. We're a research facility. Even having you and your friends here is putting a major strain on our resources.

So you just shoot first and ask questions later? I sneered.

We decided when the whole outbreak began that it would be better if we didn't bring any living specimens into the facilities.

And you're regretting that decision now, aren't you?

Aurora narrowed her eyes and picked up the needle, jabbing it into my arm more roughly than was strictly necessary. I clenched my jaw but managed not to make any noise to indicate that it had hurt, I wasn't about to give her the satisfaction. My skin was sore and tender from all of the needles, and still they insisted on taking my blood.

So why are you taking this out on me? I asked after a long moment of watching my blood fill the first vial. It's not my fault that your people are trigger happy. Let me guess, I added with a smirk, they incinerated her before you could stop them so now I'm your only source of blood that's been exposed, right?

Aurora capped the vial and stared at me through her suit. I noticed, for the first time, the dark circles under her eyes. She was exhausted and frazzled, her dark mahogany skin was looking dull and her lips were starting to crack at the corners. Her black hair was frizzy and refusing to stay pulled back inside the hazmat suit's hood. I had seen this before; it was common in the hospitals. Overworked interns and doctors with too many critical patients on their workload, losing their grip. I had looked like that more times than I'd like to admit.

Who did you lose? I asked after a moment.

She was taken aback by my question. She fumbled with switching the vials, pursed her lips and refused to answer.

Zero was just a patient, I continued. I didn't know her. I got too attached. I know I did. It wasn't smart, and I'm not exactly proud of the fact, but there it is. I failed and I lost her. Twice. It hurts and I don't think I'm ever going to be quite right again.

Was she the first patient you ever lost?

I frowned at the question. No, I admitted. I had a few terminal patients when I started. I forced myself to take those cases to avoid this from happening. But Zero? To me, she was the most important.

Why?

I shook my head. I don't know.

Hubris, perhaps, Doctor?

Probably, I agreed. I fully admit that I was in the wrong to let myself get that attached, it was a stupid mistake, and I know I shouldn't have let myself fall into it. She was sweet, and clever. I was dumb. But you haven't answered my question, Doctor.

Aurora frowned, deep lines settling into her forehead and the corners of her mouth. She'd been through hell, and now I was about to drag her back into it.

They came to fetch me when the outbreak started, she explained slowly. I was at home with my husband. The military showed up on my doorstep. We were in the convoy and someone hadn't mentioned that they had been hurt. They turned, attacked the others in the vehicle. My husband was killed. He didn't even have a chance to transform.

I'm sorry, I mumbled.

We've all lost people we were close with to this disease, Aurora said. We chose to keep the masses and the infected out because the research here is too important to lose. You showing up with your computer files was a blessing. The fact that you hadn't been infected was a bigger blessing.

So why do you keep taking my blood? I pressed.

You were there from the beginning, Liam. You were there when she died. You were the last one to see her alive and you were an idiot who didn't wear protective gear. According to Charlotte, she was in the room when your Zero was first admitted, and she's not infected, either. Considering that the attendant who had admitted Zero, and only had her throw up on his shoes was infected and is likely now dead, we have a few questions about why you haven't died yet. Since we don't have Zero, you're the best chance we have to figure out why you're not infected, and if there's any way that we can use this to prevent other people from getting infected.

You think you can make some sort of, I don’t know? Vaccine? From my blood?

Aurora shrugged and pulled the second vial and the needle out of my arm. I don't know. Right now, we're trying to find the antibodies to the infection in your blood by comparing it to the zombies.

You're calling them zombies? I chided.

Do you have a better name for them? Aurora shot back.

I shook my head. Sorry.

We were calling them The Infected for a while, but the military guys started using 'zombie' and it stuck.

What do you think they are? I asked.

Aurora fixed me with her dark eyes, staring at me with a look that made me think she might have been able to see right into my soul. They're zombies, she said finally, no trace of sarcasm. There is some kind of infection killing people at an alarming rate, then bringing them back to life. If there is a better word for it than zombie, I'm all ears.

I nodded and ran a tired hand through my hair before pulling the rubber tourniquet from my arm. Do you think that I'm infected? I asked.

Aurora shrugged again, her hazmat suit crinkling as she stared at the vials of my blood in her hand. I think that if you were really infected, we'd see an infection by now. I think that you're somehow immune. I think that you, and possibly Charlotte, were healthy enough that your immune systems found a way to adapt and beat off the infection. If we can locate the antibodies in your blood, we can start trying to replicate and synthesize them into a booster to try and give people a fighting chance.

And if not?

Aurora stood and didn't answer my question. I watched her leave, getting a glimpse of two more hazmat suits with guns outside my room. Aurora took a moment to talk with them, jerking her head in my direction before the doors closed and I was left alone in my room.

I crawled back into bed, lying on my back and staring up at the ceiling. Aurora's words played in my mind over and over. Something didn't seem to add up to me, but I couldn't quite tell what it was. The stinging in my arms subsided and I drifted off to sleep.

I woke up to the sound of the door hissing open and the armed hazmat suits walking into my room. I sat up with a groan and rubbed my eyes, grunting in the general direction of the guards.

We've been locked up in quarantine for six weeks. It's not like we're actually infected or anything, they've just chosen to keep us locked away from the rest of the facilities. Aurora's words today had confirmed all of my worst fears, and I knew it was just a matter of time before we either all spontaneously became infected, or we outlived our usefulness. I hoped that it was the latter and that outliving our usefulness meant that we could take our chances back in whatever was left of society.

They had given us a sort of routine that we could expect; they put us in a big cafeteria for a couple hours a day, then escort us back to our separate cells. They always wear hazmat suits and it's been made abundantly clear that there are armed guards watching us, ready to shoot if we so much as put one toe out of line. Not that the three of us are really willing to step that far out of line.

I pulled my long sleeves down, covering the red needle tracks that marred my skin, and padded down the hallway behind the paper hazmat suit that had come to collect me. Logically, I knew that these were people, but we never saw their faces outside of their protective gear. To me, they were nothing more than the hazmat suits.