Thread: L4D: Origins (a fanfic by Lardcake212)

I didn't know that was fucking possible, but I won't argue wit you 'cause that score is deserved. I feel like Tyrone Biggums waiting for his crack during the gaps in between chapters. The only thing that keeps me sane is Hootie and The Blowfish & Journey

I did have Bill's name as Trent at one point, but eventually, someone pointed out that his name was actually Overbeck, if you look at the name tape on his jacket. Given that I can only just run L4D on low settings, the textures were never clear enough so I had to guess.

As for FUBAR, I believe the individual letters can mean any variety of words so long as the context remains the same.

I am working on the next chapter as we speak. It is tentatively titled Z-Hour and should provide a nice bit of fun.

Thanks for the input, everyone, and keep checking back.

awesome,

BTW- did you get that message I sent you about the character bio's and situation for the ,ahem, project

wow this is really good i am working with edgeins brother on a script for his story. Would you like one?

why does my name have no posts under it?

Because jesus(A.K.A Chuck Norris) hates you
LOL

Curses. Post the previous chapter again please? The forums shutting down deleted all posts that day.

Arg, crap on a stick! I spend several days with patchy connection to the server and now they delete my hard work? This deserves sodomy by a Tank with a chainsaw!

Once again, here is the chapter titled "INHIBITOR."


INHIBITOR

Jen did not sleep for the entire night. She had been working feverishly for hours, stopping only to eat a quick meal and go to the latrines. Any attempt at conversation was quickly shot down. Bill had been watching her work: she was mixing chemicals, peering through microscopes and doing all sorts of things completely alien to him. Once in a while, Jen would quickly write down notes or even perform calculations. Given that there was limited power available, she did most of these calculations by hand. Bill had never liked math – he had enlisted in the Army straight after high school. Although the GI Bill would have allowed him to go to college with financial assistance, he had no use for any extended education.

Eventually he and Louis had dropped off to sleep. Zoey was also sleeping peacefully. Occasionally she would mumble incoherently and toss about, but otherwise, remained silent and still. The night had been a lonely, unnerving one. More wind had picked up, whistling through the broken camp structures. It made for a constant, uncanny wailing sound that made Jen’s blood turn to ice. Several times she swore she could hear something moving outside the command tent.

She stayed awake up to the next morning. Bill and Louis were awake and eagerly eating MRE’s. They reported that there was nothing outside. Jen relaxed a little bit. She mixed some strange fluids in a small vial and put it in a centrifuge. It would take about a minute for process to complete.

“You’ve been up all night,” said Bill.

“Yeah. I’m exhausted.”

“What are you even doing?” Louis asked.

“Well,” said Jen. “I’ve isolated the viral component from Zoey’s blood as well as our own. Then I analyzed the genetic structure of the virus. Meanwhile, I devised an artificial protein that works its way into the genetic code of the virus, causing it to restore regular human genetic code and destroy itself in the process.”

“So you’ve created a cure?”

“Well,” said Jen. “That’s a good question. I’ve tested it in Petri dishes and it seems to work just fine. I don’t know how it’s going to work on a human subject though.” Her gaze shifted to Zoey, who was still asleep.

“Don’t even think about it,” said Bill. “You could kill her.”

“I know,” said Jen. “What about that one?” She pointed to the strapped down zombie on the hospital bed, which was still sedated. It feebly muttered gibberish at the group.

“Might as well,” said Louis. “It’s not like he’s human anymore, is he?” He was surprised by his own words, surprised by the coldness in his voice.

“Let’s do it then,” said Jen. The centrifuge had finished its work – she reached in and pulled out the vial. There was a clear fluid in there along with a brown colored deposit at the bottom. She jammed a syringe into the container and filled it with the clear fluid. Jen took care to avoid getting any of the solid deposit. Then, she went over to the zombie. It awoke and began snarling at her. “Here we go.”

Jen injected the contents of the needle into the zombie’s immobilized arm, and then backed away. Although the thing little more than an animal, she still felt slightly guilty. If all went well, the drug would simply cure the man within a matter of minutes. But if it didn’t, there was no telling what could happen.

The zombie thrashed as normal and continued to do so for several minutes. Everyone else was watching in silence.

“Are you sure that’s going to work?” asked Bill.

“I never said I was,” replied Jen. “I just need to see what happens.” The zombie opened its mouth, roaring some more. Another minute passed and soon, she was beginning to give up. Maybe she had done something wrong. It was a possibility; she had been tired and not thinking at full capacity for most of the night. Jen sighed and began preparing another sedative syringe when suddenly, the zombie belched loudly. She turned around in surprise.

The zombie was not thrashing this time, but quivering as if suffering a seizure. Its red eyes rolled about wildly, while its mouth opened and closed rapidly. A second later it belched again. A horrible smell filled the room and then, the zombie vomited. A reddish brown goop left its rancid mouth and soaked its clothes.

“That’s disgusting,” said Louis. “You sure you made it correct?” More dramatic changes were happening: the zombie’s skin seemed to be boiling.

“I don’t think so,” said Jen. Parts of the zombie’s exposed face and arms were melting off, revealing the bone and muscle beneath. It was not blood that soaked the sheets, however, but a black fluid. From under the skin, large growths appeared like giant tumors, lined with black veins and pulsating. The zombie had stopped moving for it was surely dead. But the effects didn’t stop. Jen saw the carcass’ chest begin to expand as if the dead zombie was inhaling. But it didn’t stop. She heard the cracking of ribs.

“Back away!” she said. The group retreated and then, there was a wet popping noise as the zombie’s chest exploded outward. The jagged ribs splayed outward resembled teeth in some grotesque giant maw. A huge tumor rose like a sea monster from the black cavity of the chest, pulsating audibly with a thumping squish sound. The zombie’s eyes popped out and more growths appeared like worms out of the ground.

Most of the zombie’s innards had been consumed and converted into this disgusting mass – but just as quickly as it had started, the pulsing stopped. The large tumor from the chest seemed to deflate, as did the other growths. A minute later, the tumors seemed to dissolve into a black liquid. It took a few minutes but soon, there was nothing left of the zombie except bones.

“Holy shit,” said Jen.

“Well…at least there’s no more zombie.” Bill laughed dryly at his joke and Louis did as well. Finally, Jen gave in and burst out into laughter. She was laughing like she never had before, almost screaming with mirth. Tears formed in her eyes and her sides ached. Jen couldn’t understand what was happening. She had seen a zombie, once a human (and perhaps still somewhat human), dissolve into a mass of aggressive tumors and black slop. There was nothing funny at all about the situation.

“Jen?” said Louis, looking slightly worried.

“I’m sorry,” Jen gasped before collapsing into more laughter. “I can’t help it!” She fell to her hands and knees, still laughing. Finally, the laughing turned to crying. It took a minute for her to regain composure, but eventually, Jen stopped.

“You sure you’re all right?” asked Bill.

“I’m okay,” said Jen. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”

“Maybe you should get some sleep,” suggested Bill.

“No. There’s no time, we’ve got to evacuate this place before another wave of zombies comes. We won’t be able to hold them back this time.” Her word was final. Jen grabbed whatever medical and scientific supplies she could and placed them into a box. “Take these to the helicopter.”

Bill grabbed the box and carried it outside. Meanwhile, Jen turned to Louis.

“Can you carry Zoey to the helicopter? Go and strap her into one of the passenger seats.”

“Sure thing, Jen,” said Louis. He went over and picked up the girl. Zoey moaned slightly, but did not awaken. “How sick is she anyway?”

“It’s hard to say. The virus is in such huge quantities in her system. Really, she should be one of them, or she should be dead by now.”

“She’s cold as ice,” said Louis. Jen frowned and went over, placing two fingers on Zoey’s neck. He was right: Zoey’s skin was cold, like a corpse. But Jen felt a distinct pulse – it was strong and steady, albeit slower than normal.

“We’ll take her to a safe place and then check on her,” said Jen. “We should hurry up.” Louis went out of the tent just as Bill came back.

“I got a few crates of MRE’s in the chopper as well,” he said. “Now we just take our weapons and ammo and maybe a tent. We should be fine.”

“I sure hope so,” said Jen. She grabbed her M16 and checked the command tent to make sure she was not missing anything. After a few seconds, she put on her flight vest and helmet. Unlike the pilots of Bill’s generation, Lieutenant Jen Carlyle was utilizing the brand new technology of the 21st century. Her flight suit was a regular ACU uniform, integrated with better body armor and equipment to help her survive. Jen’s helmet was the newest feature of this flight suit. There was a rubber face mask over her mouth and nose that also integrated communications and her visor now displayed critical information right in her line of sight. The Army called this system “Air Warrior.” It was a version of Land Warrior, the Army’s name for integrating a soldier with hi-tech equipment. No longer was he just a grunt in a large unit, he was an individual subsystem of circuitry and killing.

Of course, all this fancy technology proved virtually useless against the infected horde. In fact, it only served to tell the individual soldiers how useless fighting was. In their heads-up display monocle over their left eye they could see a topographic satellite map that showed red dots where the enemy was coming from. Given that there were thousands, the entire map was red. The improved communications allowed soldiers to hear each and every squad be killed in thoroughly gory fashion.

Jen strapped herself into the pilot’s seat of the Blackhawk, while Bill sat next to her in the copilot’s seat. The group had since attached a minigun to the right side of the helicopter, which Louis manned. Zoey lay tied down to one of the benches, still catatonic. Once in a while she would move and make muffled, slurred noises that had no meaning. She was conscious, but her eyes weren’t really focused.

And with that, they flew north. The Blackhawk’s fuel tanks had been filled to capacity – it would be able to travel over one thousand miles before needing to stop. And if that wasn’t an option, the helicopter carried two extra reserve tanks mounted on the sides of the fuselage. Surely, they would be able to find something.

The flight dragged on for quite some time, and little conversation happened. They were just too tired to care about conversation anymore. Bill’s soldier instinct could tell that morale was dropping to dangerously low levels. Jen was tired and irritable, sustaining herself on MRE coffee. Zoey was barely conscious and not responding to anything. All this was getting to Louis as well. He sat down on one of the benches in the Blackhawk and stayed there, not bothering to do anything productive.

Jen finally set the helicopter down in the midst of a small Canadian town. There were very few of the infected here – most had actually frozen to death, and those that survived were now walking around stupidly. No longer were they foraging or killing. The Blackhawk touched down in the middle of a town square – over a dozen zombies were coming out of random buildings and converging on the helicopter. Louis was on the minigun, but he held his fire for the time being. From what he could tell, the zombies did not seem threatening at all – they were merely curious.

They slowly exited the helicopter, keeping their weapons at the ready. The zombies simply stared back – there was even a boomer among them. It belched loudly as it focused its beady eyes on the group. There was no grunt of attack, no aggressive move from any of them.

“This is fucked up,” said Louis. “What the hell are they doing?”

“Let me find out,” said Bill. He raised his rifle and before anyone could stop him, shot the nearest zombie in the head. The bullet tore the zombie’s head off and its body dropped to the ground. Yet this sudden move of aggression didn’t seem to disturb the zombies. In fact, it was almost as if they did not notice. Bill frowned and pulled out his handgun – unlike his M4, it wasn’t suppressed. The shot rang out loud and clear, shattering the still, cold air. Another zombie dropped dead. Still, the zombies continued to stare at the uninfected humans.

The survivors uneasily made their way out of the circle. None of the zombies bothered to give pursuit – they simply stood there, staring. Occasionally, one would grunt and fidget or scratch its head. The behavior was disturbingly humanlike. For a second, the survivors wondered whether or not the virus was simply dying out and restoring the infected to normal. A few seconds later, however, the zombies dispersed and went about their zombie business. Two of them knelt down beside a rotten corpse and began to eat. The boomer among their numbers waddled to the carcass and plopped down. It belched and grunted as it reached for the carcass, only to realize that its arms were not able to reach around its voluminous stomach.

“Blugh!” said the boomer loudly. The survivors paused and watched the scene unfold. The boomer, sloshing dangerously, held out a thick hand to one of the eating zombies. There was a second’s pause and the smaller zombie tore out a chunk of rotted flesh from the corpse on the ground and placed it carefully into the boomer’s hand. The boomer seemed satisfied and stuffed the rancid flesh into his mouth. He didn’t even chew, he simply let the meat flow into his gullet. The boomer shifted position and then let loose a hellish sequence of flatulence.

“That’s disgusting,” said Jen. “That’s really fucking disgusting.”

The sound of the fart attracted more zombies now – they completely ignored the survivors. This time, a smoker had joined their numbers. Its long, sinewy tongue dangled ludicrously behind its body like some misplaced tail. A few of the zombies were crawling on the ground, agile and catlike. Francis had seen one wearing a hood, but quite obviously, hunters did not have to be wearing hoods. One of them was a muscular man wearing only boxer briefs; the other was a thin man with a heavy coat on.

Most disturbing in this group of zombies that crowded around the corpse was a boomer even larger than the first – and it was female. Her stomach had expanded, but her sagging breasts had not, making for a ludicrous display of grotesque obesity. Louis was gaping in shock at this new sight – the female boomer’s shirt read “Princess.” Despite himself, he almost wanted to laugh.

“Damn,” he said. “Rosie O’Donnell, anyone?” Bill and Jen laughed heartily at this.

“Well, they’re not attacking us,” said Jen. “I guess it’s safe for us to move around.” As she said this, there was a wet explosion – Rosie O’Donnell had tripped and fallen, popping in the process. There was little left of her body except folds of skin, bone and fat. The rest of the area was covered in greenish brown bile. The first boomer had gotten the full blast of the explosion and now had over a dozen zombies digging their hands into his stomach. He let out a final belch and also exploded. The zombies went berserk and began to kill each other in a horribly entertaining free-for-all.

Bill was leading the group with Jen following closely. She was holding a box of her medical equipment and some food. Louis was carrying Zoey, who was just beginning to stir.

“Cold,” she said weakly. “Too cold.”

“Should we stop for a second?” asked Louis, facing Bill and Jen.

“Take her inside that house,” said Jen, pointing to a small one story cottage. Bill went up to it, knocked twice, and then kicked the door down. It had long since been deserted. It was by no means warm, but it was certainly an improvement from outside. Louis gently placed Zoey into a resting position on a couch.

“Zoey?” he said to her. “You there?”

“It’s cold,” replied Zoey casually. She was paler than ever, almost ghostlike. Her eyes finally opened – both of them were glowing yellow.

“Whoa!” exclaimed Louis, backing away.

“Zoey, how are you feeling?” asked Jen, putting her hand on Zoey’s forehead.

“Not bad,” said Zoey. Her voice was calm, slow and somewhat slurred. “It’s cold and I’m hungry.” There was no indication that her brain was undergoing much advanced thought.

“We’ll eat soon,” said Jen soothingly. “Just one minute.” She stood up and turned to the others. Meanwhile, Zoey went back to sleep. “I’ll have to run some tests,” she said. Jen quickly set up a makeshift laboratory with the few supplies she had taken from the helicopter. She turned to Louis and Bill.

“This might take some time. Could you guys go back to the chopper and grab everything?”

“Sure thing, lieutenant,” said Bill. “It’s not like they’re attacking us anymore, right?”

“Just be careful,” said Jen.

…

Jen had finished her testing rather quickly and was looking rather upset by the time Bill and Louis came back, arms laden with supplies. Zoey was awake again and saying nonsensical things. It was disturbing: almost like listening to a baby talk. Yet to see a young adult woman saying those things made it even more terrifying. Jen had set up an IV filled with some fluid that was dripping into Zoey’s arm.

“What’s wrong with her?” asked Bill. He knew Zoey decently well – she was attractive, intelligent and sharp as a knife. Yet now, her mind had regressed to that of a small child.

“It’s the virus,” said Jen. “It’s taking over her brain cells; that’s why she’s acting strange. And it’s gone into her nerves and muscles too. She’s barely able to move on her own, because her muscles are slowly degenerating. Really, she should be in tremendous pain right now, but her nerves are being wasted away as well, so she doesn’t feel anything except a sensation of coldness.”

“What’s all that supposed to mean?” asked Bill, but he already knew the dreadful answer.

“She’s dying,” said Jen. “The virus mutated within her, spawning a second strain. It’s eating her alive from the inside. Since it couldn’t…turn her into one of those things, it’ll just keep on building until it kills her.”

“How long does she have?” asked Louis. Jen sighed sadly.

“Not long,” said Jen. “I’d say a day, maybe. Two at most. The virus is working its way to her cerebral cortex. At the rate its going, she’ll be comatose within a few hours. Frankly, I’m surprised she’s still clinging to life. She’s got some serious willpower.”

“Isn’t there anything you can do to stop it?” asked Louis.

“I’m putting her on some experimental Army developed antiviral medication,” said Jen, pointing to the IV. “It’s called ‘Spartan.’ Spartan is designed to combat most types of viruses. So far, it’s worked well against influenza and even HIV.”

“What about zombie?”

“It slowed down the rate of degeneration, but not by much,” said Jen. “Really, it can only prolong her life by a few hours.”

“What about that thing you were working on?” asked Louis.

“Well…I’ll do what I can, but, you saw what it did to the last one. I’m not sure it’s worth the risk.” And with that, Jen continued to work.

Bill and Louis decided to leave her some room to work. In this time they boarded up the windows and doors of the cottage. Through cracks between the boards, they could see hundreds of the infected roaming the streets. They wondered where the new zombies had come from. Was there a neighboring town? Or had they simply been inside buildings and houses the whole time?

The day dragged on and more zombies continued to descend upon the town, milling about randomly in the streets. They were not as aggressive as normal – in fact, they almost resembled people coming out to a carnival. Still, though, it made them uneasy. None of them had eaten anything for hours, and Zoey was refusing to eat, stating that she “wasn’t hungry anymore.”

Night fell on the sleepy skeleton of the town. It began to snow again – visibility was reduced to only a few feet. The group huddled in the house, but didn’t bother to keep their voices down. The howling wind outside took care of any incidental noise they would make. Once in a while, someone would open the blinds ever so slightly to see if the zombies were aware. Each time he or she would report back that there were no zombies in sight. Which meant little – the conditions outside made it hard to see anything at all.

Jen continued to work on whatever she was doing. She would peer through a microscope, perform some calculations, inject some liquid into a Petri dish, and look at the microscope again. Once in a while she would sigh loudly with frustration, muttering swear words and curses against everything from zombies to the Army. In the dim light of a camping lantern, she appeared worn out and stressed. She had lost seemingly all remnants of her attractive features and now looked like hell.

As she worked, Zoey continued to spout off nonsense. It seemed her intelligence was continuing to degrade. Hours previously she had been talking about the differences between mammals and reptiles, mentioning “furry doggies” and “turtles.” Now, she was reciting basic multiplication tables. Sometimes she would recite it incorrectly and when Bill corrected her, would say “I’m sorry, Mrs. Stevens.”

“It’s like she’s aging backwards,” said Louis. “Only, she really isn’t.” Zoey’s body was getting older with each passing second, just like everyone else’s. But her mind was regressing further and further as the virus invaded one brain cell at a time. Her skin was cold to the touch and still pale, from slowed circulation. The muscles in her arms and legs now felt soft and undeveloped, like that of a newborn child. To see this young woman slowly waste away was terrible.

The group’s solitude was shattered by a smashing noise at the back of the house, accompanied by the splintering of wood. Jen dropped the vial of liquid she was holding while Louis and Bill stood up, weapons ready. A cold gust of air made its way into the kitchen where they sat.

“Something’s inside,” said Jen. “Deal with it.”

Bill slowly moved towards the bedrooms, his trigger finger tensed. Louis stood right behind him.

“Hopefully it’s just one,” said Bill. They had closed the bedroom doors previously – but now, they could hear something moving around inside. The shuffling of feet was accompanied by the howling of wind and occasional gibberish, punctuated by a word once in a while.

“I’ll open the door, you take him out,” said Louis. His hand was on the doorknob. “You ready?” Bill nodded. Louis twisted the handle and pushed the door inward – Bill was already inside, his rifle raised. Sure enough, a lone zombie stood there, gaping stupidly. It made no move of aggression. Bill lunged forward and butted the zombie with the stock of his M4. It simply fell to the floor, muttering.

“Grab his legs,” commanded Bill. Louis went in and grasped the zombie’s ankles firmly. The zombie was wearing a filthy orange hooded sweatshirt and jeans. The two survivors dragged the zombie to the kitchen, where it continued to mutter and stare at the survivors. Its eyes settled on Bill, then to Louis and then on Jen.

“Stupid!” shouted the zombie abruptly. “Fucking stupid!”

“Who are you?” asked Bill, kneeling down next to the zombie. “What’s your name?”

“Huck!”

“Huck?” said Bill. “Is that your name? Like Huck Finn?”

“Huck hoo!” replied the zombie. It burped and two week’s worth of the smell of tooth decay filled the room. “Stupid! Fucking stupid!”

“I think it’s saying ‘fuck you’ again,” said Louis. “Like the last one. These zombies have some serious Tourette’s.”

“Snarf!” said the zombie. “Food!” Bill wasn’t sure whether or not the zombie was actually hungry, or if the sudden exclamation of “food” had simply been zombie gibberish that sounded like a word.

“Let’s give him something,” said Louis. He had saved a packet of M&M’s from one of his MRE’s. “Can’t hurt to try, right?” The zombie sat up and shook its head. It belched again and sniffed the air.

“Rack!” it shouted abruptly. His face was a myriad of various emotions. “Rack tack nack!”

“Take this,” said Louis. He had some M&M’s in his hand, outstretched for the zombie to take. The zombie said some more gibberish and looked down at Louis’ hand. Then it scratched its head in confusion. A second later it continued to spout off. The zombie’s parched lips cracked in the process – but instead of blood, a greenish brown fluid oozed out. Bill was reminded of the corpse he had inspected way back in Fairfield, on their way to the hospital.

“No, you dummy, you eat it!” said Louis. He demonstrated by eating one of the M&M’s. This time, the zombie seemed to understand and held out a filthy hand.

“Me!” it shouted. “Huck! Stupid! Rack tack nack!” Louis placed the M&M’s into the zombie’s hand. The zombie stared at the M&M’s for a second. Then, it shoved its palm into its mouth and greedily sucked the candies down. He didn’t even chew. The zombie held out its hand again. Louis emptied the M&M bag into the zombie’s hand and quickly went to get another MRE. This sudden movement startled the zombie, and it scrambled to its feet, suddenly looking enraged.

“Ruck a tuck!” it sputtered, and some M&M’s fell from its mouth, clattering to the floor. Jen stood up – her sidearm was in her right hand, and an autoinjector was in her left. The zombie had its back towards her and was busy snarling at Louis, who stood absolutely still. Thus, it had no way of knowing that Jen was slowly approaching. She raised the injector and plunged it into the side of the zombie’s neck.

“Don’t shoot it yet!” she shouted as the needle delivered its payload. The zombie snorted and turned on her, mouth moving in a flurry of spit and greenish brown slime that had seemingly replaced regular blood. It raised and arm and batted Jen’s arm with surprising intensity. There were two cracks as one of the bones in Jen’s forearm broke, along with the zombie’s. Jen cried out in pain, but the zombie did not notice his own injury and leaped on Jen, screaming gibberish.

“Now can we shoot it?!” shouted Louis – his Beretta was pointed at the struggling pair on the ground.

“Not yet!” said Jen. “Give it a minute!”

“You might hit Jen anyway,” said Bill. “We’ll have to do this the hard way.” He tried to pull the zombie off of Jen’s struggling body, but it refused to let go. Louis joined the frenzy – yet the zombie still did not budge.

“He – he’s biting me!” shouted Jen frantically. “Get him off, get him off!” Her speech turned into another cry of pain as the zombie’s infected teeth dug into her shoulder.

“Why the hell can’t I shoot him?” Louis yelled as he continued to struggle with the zombie.

“I need to know what that serum I created will do!” gasped Jen. “Just keep him at bay for a little longer!” This command was no longer necessary – a second later, the zombie suddenly stopped struggling. Bill and Louis forced it off and threw it aside. The zombie lay still, breathing heavily, but did not attack again. Jen moaned as she sat up, covering her bleeding shoulder with her uninjured arm. She also watched the zombie as its breathing slowed down. Eventually, it went to sleep and started snoring. Jen went over it and lifted up one of its eyelids. Even as she watched, the red irises were fading slightly. Another minute later and the zombie’s eyes went back to a normal blue state. The greenish liquid that was actively flowing from the zombie’s torn lips turned back into normal blood. Even now, Jen could feel that zombie’s flesh turning warmer as normal circulation began – the pulse was strong and regular. In the harsh light, it was hard to tell, but color began returning to the zombie’s pale tone.

“Oh my god,” said Jen. “Holy shit, I think it might have worked.”

“I’ll be god damned,” said Bill. “We just…cured a zombie.”

The former zombie was still lying on the ground, but it began to move, slowly. He was breathing faster now and moaning with pain.

“It…hurts…” he said. “Please…make it…stop!” His voice was hoarse with dehydration – even as he began to cry, his tear ducts had no more water to produce tears.

“Sir, can you hear me?” asked Jen. Her voice was firm and steady, but at the same time, brimming with excitement.

“Wha…I can’t…I can’t see you…everything hurts.”

“I know, that’s the circulation returning to your body,” said Jen. “Sir, do you remember your name?”

“Where am I?” asked the man weakly. Louis held a canteen to his mouth.

“Drink slowly,” he advised. The man gulped down a few mouthfuls of water and coughed.

“We honestly don’t know,” said Jen. “You are in a small town. Do you remember its name?”

“Town…Hartfield…the town is Hartfield. In Ontario.” The man’s pain seemed to be easing up as his circulation normalized. “My name is David Jefferson, I…what happened?”

“You…were one of them,” said Bill. “But we cured you. It’s going to take months to bring you back to full health, but for now, you’re no longer a zombie.”

“What…how…”

“Just rest,” said Jen. “Can you stand?”

“I’ll try,” said David, and he unsteadily got to his feet. “Say, I feel a lot – ”

He stopped talking and suddenly, his body tensed. Jen heard a faint popping noise from deep inside David’s body. As she heard this, blood squirted out of all his orifices. He was dead before he even hit the floor.

“No…no, not again, I had it right this time!” Jen screamed angrily. She slammed her injured arm against the wall in frustration – this time, the influx of pain was so great that she quickly lost consciousness. Louis caught her before she hit the ground. Meanwhile, Bill continued to stare at the bloody corpse on the floor.

“At least she was closer this time,” he said. He dragged the corpse back to the bedroom and threw it out of the broken window. When he returned, Louis was bandaging Jen’s wounds – she was now conscious and looking furious.

“What happened to him?” asked Louis.

“I bet it was his heart. Worked too hard and contracted so fast that his…major blood vessels just blew up. They were already weak from lack of circulation. If you were to do an autopsy, you’d just find a bloody mess in there.”

“You’ll get it this time,” said Bill.

“This time? What the hell are you talking about?’

“You have to try, Jen,” said Bill. He pointed towards Zoey. “Her life depends on it.”

“It’s not that easy,” said Jen. “You try working your ass off without any food or sleep, trying to make a cure for something you don’t understand, and then watch your patient die.”

“I never said it was easy,” said Bill. “But please, Jen. You’re the only one who can do this; we need you to do it.”

“Fuck it,” replied Jen, standing up. She pushed Louis off and set her broken arm into place by herself. “I’m tired of failing like this. I can’t do it. I’ve had enough.” She stood up and headed for the door.

“You’re not going anywhere,” said Bill. He took two steps forward and put a hand on her uninjured shoulder.

“Fuck you!” shouted Jen as she turned around. She had her service pistol in her left hand and was now aiming it in Bill’s face. Bill simply shrugged and, in a flash of green, disarmed Jen. He field stripped the pistol and tossed its pieces aside.

“You don’t want to do that,” he said. Jen looked at the disassembled pieces and finally, burst into tears. She threw herself into Bill’s arms and cried hard into his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean any of that,” she spluttered.

“Everything’s fine,” said Bill quietly, stroking Jen’s hair.

“I’ll get back to work on the serum,” said Jen. “I’ll get it right this time. I need to. Zoey needs me to get it right.”

“I’m sure you will,” said Louis. “You almost had it there. Fix it up just a little bit and it’ll turn out right.”

“I just have to force the heart to stay normal for a while,” said Jen. She went back to the table where her work lay unfinished. “I just hope the virus hasn’t caused any actual brain damage.”

“Would it have?” asked Bill.

“Not entirely. The brain cells are left intact, but under influence of the virus. We just have to disrupt the RNA processes and if all goes well, she’ll be okay.”

“Let’s hope,” said Bill. Everyone looked toward Zoey – she was lying still with her glowing eyes staring at the ceiling. She had stopped talking entirely and the only evidence that she was alive was the steady rise and fall of her chest. The sounds of the winter storm outside had died down somewhat, but the snow continued to fall, obscuring the view. The three conscious survivors sat down at the table in silence. Neither Bill nor Louis had medical knowledge, but they certainly proved to be somewhat useful in busy work that required two hands.

The night dragged on, but none of them dared to sleep – the scientific work being done was far more important. Zoey’s life hung in the balance. And as they worked, each was thinking roughly the same thing: was it still worth it?

…



Next up, Z-Hour! I promise I'll get this chapter to you soon, probably Friday night. Then I get to wake up bright and early on a Saturday morning to go to an ROTC field training exercise that goes from like 6 to 4. Yay!

Well, as it turns out, I didn't finish the chapter Z-Hour. So hopefully, it'll be up by Monday.

Haha. You're JUST like valve.