The Neuropathology Of Zombies (17 page)

“Why haven’t they come looking for us yet? We should have been back by now, shouldn’t they have sent out the helicopter?” she asked, looking up at the night sky.
“I don’t know. It’s kind of a sensitive situation. The Marines have been taking fire from the cartel since we arrived. They finally gain some diplomatic ground, if they started flying the chopper around looking for us, that trust might vanish. If it were me, I would keep the fact we are missing very quiet, hope for the best, and wait for day light, then send someone out on the ground,” I replied, uncertain if I was speaking the truth, or just wishful thinking.
I rested my head against the elevated ledge of the roof. I had a difficult time keeping my eyes open. The Governors words faded into nothing as I fell asleep.
I opened my eyes and looked up into the pink and orange sky. The sun was rising, I had slept all night. I lifted my head off the ledge, my neck stiff from being stuck in one position over night. I tried to sit up, but my body refused to move, and every part of my existence throbbed. I tilted my head to the side and saw the Governor curled up in the opposite corner, sound asleep.
I forced myself to stand and examined our escape route between the buildings. The Driftwood had vanished from the roof of the convenience store. I glanced over the side of our building, the street was empty.
“Where did they go?” I whispered to myself.
My voice woke the governor. “What?” she asked, rubbing her eyes.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you. The Driftwood, they’re gone. Where the hell did they all go?”
She walked over to me and looked down at the vacant street, “That’s very strange.”
“They couldn’t have gone too far, they circled pretty fast last night,” I said.
“Do you think we should wait here for a helicopter? Surely they’ll come looking for us,” she asked.
“I don’t know. If they see us, where will they land? The sound of the fly-over will attract the Driftwood, I doubt we could get through them and make it to the closest landing site. I think our best bet is to run for it,” I answered.
“I guess you’re right.”
I glanced around the rooftop; there were no stairs and no obvious way down. I circled the edge of the roof, and discovered a narrow fire escape ladder enclosed by a steel grate. The ladder led to the ally beneath us and stopped about ten feet from the ground, it was a long drop, but I thought we could make it.
“Down the ladder,” I said. “We’ll slip out of the ally and run for it. The road to the tower is just across the street.”
I swung my legs over the ledge and started down the ladder. I dangled from the last rung, listening for a second before I let go. I hit the ground and toppled onto my side, an electric shock of pain ran through my body.
I waved for the Governor to follow, nervously looking up and down the alley. She stepped on the ladder and started down. The rifle caught on the grate. She fumbled around, trying to create enough room for herself and the gun. The metal weapon struck against the grate and a ringing sound echoed off the brick walls lining the alleyway.
“Forget it, leave it!” I whispered as loudly as I could.
She tossed the rifle onto the roof and climbed down the ladder. I tried to catch her as she landed, and we both ended up falling to the ground. We stood and listened. Silence. So far, our escape had been undetected. We inched along the alley towards the street. We were hidden in the shadows of the two buildings, the light from the rising sun glowed at the end of the lane.
I slid my back along the wall until I reached the corner of the building. I held my breath and poked my head out into the street. I saw no motion, the street was empty. The road to the tower was fifty feet across from us.
I turned back to the Governor, “Ready?”
“Now or never.”
“No stopping,” I said, grabbing her hand. “On three. One. Two...Three!” We darted out of the alley, running towards the road.
We sprinted as fast as we could, griping each other’s hand tightly. I don’t think I have ever moved that fast in my life. The Governor had no trouble keeping up, we were side by side, our eyes focused on the dirt road ahead of us.
It only took us a few seconds to reach the unpaved street, but it seemed much longer. The dust kicked up into my face and I imagined I must have looked like the Road Runner fleeing from the coyote in the cartoons. I turned and looked behind us, nothing was in pursuit, we’d made it. We ran for about a mile at top speed before we slowed and eventually came to a stop. I bent, resting my hands on my knees. After a few painless breaths the adrenalin wore off, and I was in agony again.
The Governor must have seen me grimace. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, it only hurts when I stop!”
“Well, then, I guess we better not stop!” She laughed.
I scanned of the grassy fields around us, “Looks clear, we should probably still keep a fast pace, those things could be anywhere. The tower is only another couple of miles ahead, let’s keep moving.”
We continued to run along the winding dirt road. The sun was over the horizon, the blaze orange dawn was giving way to a deep blue morning sky. The air became warmer and I started to sweat as the escape route seemed to turn into a never ending hill.
Soon I could see the shadow of the watch tower set against the brightly lit sky. I began to wave my hands above my head as I ran, trying to attract attention without making unnecessary noise. Plus, I didn’t want them to think we were Driftwood and shoot us.
They must have seen us coming. We were met by two Marines who were running at us faster than we were running at them, their guns pointing straight ahead, bodies swiveling left and right. One of them grabbed me by the arm, “Are you okay?” he shouted.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” I said, my voice full of relief. My smile faded quickly. “The others,” I paused. “There was an accident,” I panted, my sentences spit out between painful gasps for air. “We came back through town.....with the guy from the cave.....the streets were full,
thousands.....we lost control....we were going too fast and rolled....the others...I’m sorry.”
I placed my hand on the Marine’s shoulder and hung my head, breathing heavily.
“Fuck. Fuck,” cried the other Marine, walking around in tight circles and rubbing the back of his neck.
A few seconds of quiet followed, after which one of the Marines spoke. “We better get to the tower and get you back to the barracks. There are a lot of people worried about the two of you.”
The Marine radioed the police station that we had been found alive and I sat on the elevated platform drinking cold bottled water. My mind raced, what the hell was going on here? I had narrowly escaped being devoured by flesh eating monsters, twice. No way was this real. I had to be dreaming. I closed my eyes and inhaled, holding it in as long as I could. I slowly let the air out of my lungs, and opened my eyes, hoping to be lying in my bed at home, next to my wife. No such luck, I stared at the bottom of the next level of the tower, I was not home.
“The chopper should be here in a half hour. You’re lucky, the General says you’ll just miss the morning briefing.” he said, dropping to sit next to me.
He waited before speaking. “Doc, our guys,” he paused, searching for the right words, “they’re didn’t end up like, like those fucking zombies, did they?”
“No, sir. As shitty as it sounds, they were lucky that the accident injured them as badly as it did,” I answered. I left out the bit about me watching his friends being devoured by the ravenous mob.
The mournful silence was interrupted by the sound of the approaching helicopter.
He stood, grunting, “Looks like your ride is here.” I reached for his hand and he pulled me up.

CHAPTER 21

The area of the city that we flew over was empty and quiet. I kept asking myself, “
Where dotheygo?
”. As we banked, and lowered over the police station, I could see the barracks was still surrounded, and that the number of zombies seemed to be growing. Are there more coming in from out of town? Are there more new cases? If so, where were the unaffected people? I was more anxious than ever to return to the hospital.

I was met outside by the General. “Doctor, glad you’re alright,” he threw his arm around me, “You look like shit.”
“Thanks. I feel like shit.”
“Not to be unsympathetic, but, can you catch me up on your progress at the hospital? Dr. Allen gave me an overview of what he’s learned so far, I am interested to hear your opinion.”
“Well, I am still not one hundred percent sure. I do know that the creatures are dead, and beginning to decompose. Their internal organs are useless, totally autolyzed, which explains why they can’t be stopped by bullets. The exception is the brain. It’s also decomposing, but some parts are still preserved, parts like the brainstem. I don’t know what it all means. I have to look at the slides this morning, maybe then I’ll have a better idea.”
“Virus or toxin?” he asked, point blank.
“Still not sure, but I am leaning towards virus. Can’t really explain why, just a feeling.”
The General grunted. I wondered how much time I had before he lost patience with me. Science needs time, I am sure he understood that, to a degree, but when the President calls, time must move a little faster. I felt a pang in my stomach, and wished to come up with some sort of answer by the end of the day.
“Before I go back to the hospital, I want to check on Igor. Has there been any change in his status?” I asked.
“Nope, no act of God, he’s still walking dead.”
“How about the hotel? Can you get me in?”
“Not yet. Our special op’s team is trying to figure out how to obtain water samples from the pool and the beach. The building is heavily infested, getting inside has been difficult. They’re coming up with a plan for sampling the air ducts, too, but that may take some time.”
We stood staring at each other, not sure of what to say next.
“Ok, take a shower, change and get back to the hospital. We’ll meet after lunch,” he ordered.
“Yes, sir,”
The hot water soothed my aching body. I stood motionless for several minutes letting the steam relax my tense muscles. I ran my fingers through my hair, stopping to massage the matted strands stuck together by dried blood. My mouth filled with a metallic taste as the blood rinsed away. The gash in my scalp wasn’t too deep and I didn’t think it needed stitches. I held my arms above my head, rubbing my hair and my ribs throbbed. I tried to think of solutions as I bathed; as strange as it sounds, the bathroom has always been my think tank. I have come up with more diagnoses and solved more crimes while brushing my teeth, or standing in the shower, than I ever had while sitting at the desk in my office. I needed to see the slides.
I dressed in a fresh set of fatigues and exited the building. I wished I hadn’t missed the morning briefing, I really wanted to know what was going on with the entire operation. There were many people here with many different tasks, I was just a small part of the puzzle.
A Marine walked up to me, “Sir, are you ready?”
“Yes, but before we go, I’d like to check on Igor.”
The Marine shrugged and led me in the direction of the cell block. I saw the Governor on the other side of the parking lot talking to several military personnel. I gave her a wave and she shot me a brief, warm smile. I followed the Marine into the barracks.
Igor lay motionless, still bound. He heard us enter and turned his head to watch our approach.
“Very good hearing,” I whispered, trying to minimize any stimulation.
I knelt at the edge of the cell. He growled at me, lips snarling, and slithered in my direction. His pupils were fully dilated forging deep dark holes in the center of his eyes. The surrounding sclera were blood stained and red colored tears formed pools in the inner corners before slowly oozing down his cheeks.
A black substance that looked like coffee grounds dripped from his nose and spewed from his mouth as he hissed at me. The ulcers on his skin were becoming deeper and I could see bone through many of them. I looked at the floor around him, there were sheets of green skin stuck the cement and a thick black fluid left a trail to where his body had been.
I lifted my hand above my head. Igor’s eyes jetted upwards, following my movements.
“Very good reflexes. His hearing is excellent and his vision seems quite good. Interesting,” I murmured.
“Ok, let’s get to the hospital,” I said.

CHAPTER 22

The team was busy at work when I arrived in the lab. Everyone turned to acknowledge my presence and returned to their studies. The technician, who was slicing the wax-encased tissue cassettes into micrometer thin sections, stopped and walked over to me.

“Hi, Doc. The slides should be stained and ready in a couple of hours. There’s a lot of them, I’m working as fast as I can.”
“I know, do the best you can. In the meantime, it will give me a chance to look at something else. I am going to head down to the morgue, let me know when they are ready,” I said.
“Yes, sir.”
“Any news from Dr. Allen?” I asked.
“I haven’t seen him yet today, I think he’s up on the second floor though, one of the Marines brought some blood samples in about an hour ago.”
“Great. I’ll stop in to see him on my way to the basement clinic.”
I walked into the dimly lit room, the doctor was leaning over the Marine listening to his chest with a stethoscope. Allen lifted his head and looked at me as I gave him a silent wave.
“Hawk, glad you are alright,” he whispered, moving out into the hallway.
“Thanks, any news from your work?” I asked.
“Well, the blood tests have been about the same, still a mixed acute and chronic inflammatory reaction, but the numbers are starting to drop, and there are more immature cells present, I think he is beginning to exhaust his bone marrow. He’s slipped into a coma but hasn’t had a seizure in several hours. I did manage to get serial EEG’s which were quite interesting,” he said, and pulled out a pile of papers covered with squiggly, erratic lines.
The electroencephalograph, or EEG as we call them in the ‘biz’, are recordings taken through the scalp of the electric activity of the brain as neurons fire away creating thought and movement.
“Let me see,” I said, taking the EEG’s from him.
“This is amazing, we are actually seeing what’s happening to his brain as the disease progresses!” I exclaimed, examining the data. “At first the EEG shows diffuse background slowing. Then, there are these triphasic waves that are very high amplitude, bilateral, symmetrical, and synchronous, but they don’t appear to lateralize, it’s diffuse.” I paused, thinking. “Maybe a metabolic encephalopathy.”
As I continued to sift over the printout of the electrical waves emitted by the Marines sickened brain, I noticed the pattern start to change.
I pointed to one of the graphs, “Look at this, here is a prominent focus of polymorphic delta wave activity. And look here, periodic, focal large amplitude sharp wave complexes that repeat every few seconds. It’s interesting, this pattern moves around, it’s not staying at one specific location in the brain, then it disappears and returns to the slow background delta and theta wave pattern we saw at the outset. This repeats over and over again.”
Allen and I stared at the documents and I sighed deeply.
“What does it mean?” he asked.
“It looks like it could be a metabolic and a viral encephalopathy. This is a very unique pattern that I have never seen before in all my years as a neuropathologist. But this focal large amplitude stuff is viral, the slow background stuff could be, too. I am positive it’s viral! It has to be.”
I flipped through the remaining pages, it was more of the same slow background with alternating high amplitude sharp wave complexes. I pulled out one of the most recent studies and showed it to Dr. Allen.
“He’s losing cortical activity. Look, the waves are getting flat.”
The internist squinted his eyes and let out a puff of air between his tightened lips. He looked back into the room, his gaze fixed on the Marine lying on the bed.
“How much more time do you think?” I asked.
“Any time. He’s close to the 24 hour mark. Maybe us giving him medication bought him some time,” he answered.
“Don’t you think it’s a little fast for a virus?” he questioned. “I don’t know of any viruses that have incubation periods less than two or three days. We’re taking hours here, minutes.”
“Yeah, I agree, its fast. But let’s face it, should we really expect anything typical of a virus that wakes the dead and turns them into flesh eating zombies? Whatever it is, it’s not your everyday flu bug!”
I handed the papers back to him. “Let’s keep the EEG hooked up and see what happens when he reanimates. Have someone come and get me as soon as he dies.”
“Sure. Don’t go too far,” he quipped jokingly.