"I'm calling Major Stevenson, and then I'm calling the Rangers. He's chewing ... he's ... eating her!"
"Oh my God! You're right! What are we calling the rangers for? Call the military police to come arrest this crazy bastard! He's lost it!"
"You don't get it! I'm not calling for Moffenberg! I'm calling for the twenty-five men we've injected with this who were resting in an unguarded room with other soldiers."
Michaels dialed the office of Major Stevenson on speaker. "Sir! There's something horribly wrong with the vapor we designed! Things we couldn't possibly have expected to happen are happening, sir!"
"Could you possibly be any more vague, doctor? What exactly are you talking about, son? We have to crack a few eggs to make an omelet, right?"
Christophers chimed in, "Sir, this is the Holy Mother Mary of omelets! The doctor who was attacked earlier is awake!"
The Major considered this. "How is that a bad thing?"
Christophers shouted, "Sir! He's eating a nurse!"
"Did I hear your right, son? What the hell did you do to that man!?"
Michaels answered, "He didn't have any exposure, sir. He was bitten! Oh my God! It spreads, sir! The antidote Daniels had was the root of this, I think. It's the only explanation for any of this! We need to evacuate the healthy off of the base!"
"That's out of the question! I'm going to assemble the Rangers and we'll get this taken care of. You two try not to do anything stupid in the meantime!"
They both watched the monitor and saw that he had eaten all the way through her neck. Her head, no longer connected, had rolled under the bed. Moffenberg was pulling intestines out by the handful, gorging himself.
Michaels managed, "I think I'm going to be sick."
Christophers looked in awe, adjusting the security camera lens in the lab, calibrating for the perfect image, whizzing and zooming. Moffenberg could only be seen hunched over the dead nurse, sitting on his feet and squatting next to her, his hands moving quickly to his mouth. The back and sides of his hospital gown were soaked through with blood making it appear black.
Michaels continued, "That's disgusting! What's wrong with him!? Why are you getting a better picture!?"
Just then Moffenberg stopped eating, raised his head straightening his shoulders a little, and slowly bent his back up straight. "He hears it--would you look--he hears the lens adjusting in the room!"
Moffenberg turned his head slowly, tilting it to the side. His mouth was open, full, and filled with bloody pieces of Nurse Pearson's intestines. He still had one hand buried deep in her torso. He roared at the lens, making both doctors jump a foot in the air. Moffenberg got to his feet slowly and walked to the door, a handful of guts dragging behind.
Michaels' chest was heaving. Breathing heavily at this point he gasped, "He thinks he can get out the door! Look at him! What's he thinking?"
Christophers pointed at the screen. "Look at the handle. All he has to do is...."
The two doctors read the word on the handle in unison. "... Push."
Moffenberg made his way out, not pushing with his hand and outstretched hands like a normal person--he walked into it with his face and chest. They watched in horror as the door slid shut behind him, blood and guts smeared all against it and down the side, Moffenberg no longer in the room or camera's view.
"Where is he going?" Michaels managed.
Christophers smacked him on the shoulder hard. "How in the hell should I know! From the look of the nurse, I'd say that he is looking for ... food."
They looked at the remnants of a bloody disaster of a room, a life ruined in a matter of seconds.
"He's in the hallway with the staff and patients," Christophers thought aloud.
"We have to warn them! We have to warn everybody!" Without hesitation he ran to the wall and pulled the red security alarm. It was the highest alarm that could be pulled on the base, and the loud speaker announced code red after he pulled it.
Christophers was watching intently, and looked up the second he'd found the hallway channel on the video feed to see the alarm switch being pulled down. "Don't pull the alarm!" he screamed. "You'll kill us all!"
But it was too late. The room went black when the lights cut off, and started to glow red when the emergency bulbs came to life.
"We have to warn them," Michaels told him. "They don't deserve this. They're just doing their job."
"Agreed, but you just locked all the innocent people in the building with twenty-five of those ravenous freaks!"
"But they're sleeping still." The siren screamed through the building and across the base. Michaels held up his hands awkwardly towards Christophers. "I know! Don't say it! If I could take it back I would, but for right now, let's get out of here!"
They went to leave and saw a young, thin, unsuspecting orderly dressed in white on the screen. The man never had time to process what he was looking at. Moffenberg jumped up and landed on the man's chest knocking him to the ground. With both arms gripping the man's head, he smashed it repeatedly on the white tile floor, turning it red as his head began to bleed. He tore the man's left arm from the limb leaving scraps of skin on the ground and ligaments dangling off of the socket. Moffenberg dropped the arm, not interested in it, ripped the man's shirt from his chest and gruesomely started tearing the flesh away. He had a hunger that could not be filled. He stood back up, leaving the twitching orderly on the ground, picking up the arm and eating it like a turkey leg as he walked to find his next victim.
The two doctors stared at the video feed. The hallway outside their doors seemed to be clear--they were hoping that, if they could get out of the secured building, they might have a chance. Unless a full army brigade saved them then there was no hope.
Christophers and Michaels walked slowly through the hallway. Trying to listen for sounds was pointless until the siren finally died down. A recorded voice came over the loud speakers: "
Please do not be alarmed. Until otherwise directed, this is only a drill. Please head to your designated spot in the wards. You will be escorted in a timely fashion to a safety bunker. Again this is only a drill.
"
The lights continued to flash. Michaels pulled on Christophers' sleeve. They tried to melt into the beige walls when a military police team of two was clearly heading their way. Both men were over six foot and had assault rifles slung over their back. They were holding pistols in their hands and had the sights of their pistols locked on the two doctors. The ranking officer barked, "Doctors! This is not a warning! Please move to your designated areas!"
From nowhere, a bloody, boney hand reached out of a window, clasped onto the officer's shirt, and pulled all two hundred and twenty pounds of the officer through it. His pistol caught on the frame, falling to the floor and discharging as the gun struck the concrete. The bullet from the pistol ricocheted off of the wall and ended up in the second officer's skull, spraying his blood all across the back of the wall, dropping him instantly. A blood curdling shriek filled with moans of agony came from the ward. Scream after gurgling scream came from the officer that had been pulled through the window. Then they stopped.
The doctors looked quickly into the ward from a safe distance to see what was happening, and realized that if ever there was a human smorgasbord, this was it.
There were hundreds of men stacked on bunks from a recent battle--trapped men, stuck in their beds, unable to move, praying for death but praying for a miracle more. The men who had received the vapor injection were putting these poor soldiers, young and old, out of their misery ... or at least that is what it looked like.
"Would you look at that?" Michaels whimpered. "For the love of all that's holy, I cannot believe this! This is the most horrible thing I have ever seen! What are we going to do!? We have to do something! We have to!"
Christophers smacked him across the face. "We have to get out of here! We are the only ones left on the team that know anything about what's going on! If we don't survive, then the country could be lost! What happens if it made it to the states!? That could be horrific!"
"Are you kidding me!? If this got out back home, there'd be nowhere to go! These things would hunt every last person down!"
They could hear a bullhorn from outside, the Major's voice screaming loudly over it. "
We are going to quarantine the building, and no one will be allowed to leave! If you are not infected please find a safe place to hide! Soldiers will be entering the building as soon as they can get their forces put together to clear out the ill!
"
Christophers frowned. "I don't buy that for one minute! They're going to clean everything out, and anyone left will be put in a cage or a glass bottle--whatever they fit into best. There's no winning situation here, is there!?"
"Don't worry about it." Michaels assured him. "We're going out the front door. Once he sees that it's us, he'll open a path so we can escape. We're the only ones who can help with this."
"You know, I love your optimism sometimes. You're completely wrong, but what do we have to lose--stay in here and become a meal or risk letting a group of soldiers blow us to pieces with heavy artillery?"
They headed up to the door, looking behind them at a bloody pack of men. There were far greater than twenty-five. They recognized the one armed orderly, his guts falling from his stomach, walking step for step with Moffenberg. There had to be a hundred of these things moving towards them. Michaels broke out into a run, not waiting for Christophers.
A giant mob had gained on them and caught Christophers, dragging him to the ground. A mound of men crowded on top of him, tearing and pulling at his skin. His face distorted in a pain he'd never felt before, tears filling his eyes, praying to just pass out. He screamed, his arm outstretched for Michaels to come and save him. Michaels looked back but refused to stop--stopping was death.
Or, from what he'd seen, it could be worse. Much worse.
He made it to the front doors and slammed on the bar to open the door to the front entrance. It didn't give an inch and Michaels merely rammed into it, his head cracking open on the wired windows. A stream of blood dripped down his face.
Major Stevenson and his team of Rangers were keeping the door shut so that they couldn't be forced open and the people inside couldn't push their way out.
Michaels pounded his fists on the door. "I can help! I can help! Let me out of here! I know how to fix this! Please let me out!"
Major Stevenson looked in at the man with tears falling from his face, pleading ... begging ... clawing at the doors to be let out ... pounding until his fists bled.
A bloody hand came into view. It clutched his skull and slammed it into the mesh wired glass, breaking it. The pressure being applied to Michaels face was as if it was on a cheese grater--layers of cheek and eyelids being flayed into the wire. The monsters were pulling at Michaels until he sank from view.
Christophers, or what was left of him, came up and started licking the window seal with a bloody tongue getting what was left from Michaels' face.
Major Stevenson watched in terror, wishing he'd never asked these men to start this project in the first place. He signaled the head Ranger to come over to light the building ablaze. Death by fire would be more humane than forcing these savages to live in this state any longer. He couldn't let something like this get out. Not on his watch. The research could be looked at later, but, for right now, there was nothing useful in keeping these things alive.
Chapter 12
Day -1: May 29th, 2017. World Population 7,370,261,835