Waking The Zed (9 page)

“Visitor from the frying pan,” Pam said
without humor, “welcome to the fire.”

Paul
looked at Pam, the dead woman, and finally Dr. Klein. Then he turned to gape at the inside doors. The young man’s lips worked silently, but he seemed unable to find his voice.

Up close, Paul looked
very young. His face was pale and unlined. Pamela wondered if he, like her, was simply a college student with a summer job. He may have complied readily with Dr. Klein’s orders because he still believed the gun was only for their mutual protection, and did not also represent a threat. Dr. Klein had not bothered to point the thing at his chest. But then Pam remembered how he had glanced at her in the lab, as if he wanted to communicate something even back then. She certainly could not question him right now, with Dr. Klein standing there armed and only a few feet away.

The inside doors shuddered again and
the metal frame clearly started to bend. Pamela’s nerves seemed to be electrified and it took great effort to stay seated. She had no way to know how many of those things gathered in the hallway so Dr. Klein’s gun did not comfort her much. The woman might be able to take down one or two before they invaded the small reception area. She doubted that Dr. Klein could shoot a half dozen of them though. Every nerve in Pam’s body seemed to tingle with the urge to run.

Pam
urgently wanted to sprint for the outside doors now, but the threat of Dr. Klein’s gun felt real too. She promised herself that she would bolt the second the inside door showed a sign it might give way. She hoped the doctor would be distracted by the creatures and decided she would rather be shot by Dr. Klein than face a horde of those awful dead things.

Paul
kept his eyes on the inside door frame too. His tongue darted out to lick dry lips and Pam guessed he was controlling himself with an effort just as she was. “How long do you think we have?” he murmured.

“They have
done this much damage in a few minutes, and they don’t seem to get tired,” Pamela replied grimly. “As time passes, more of them seem to be piling up behind the first ones. In another twenty minutes we may have a big problem. I just hope they don’t get smarter. If one of them has a couple of brain cells left we’ll be in really big trouble.”

Dr. Klein finally glanced up from the wide screen of her smart phone. She waved her gun hand dismissively. “The military will be here in
less than ten minutes,” she said. “I had this building constructed to very high building standards. That door should hold up against a little pounding. There is no evidence that any of them retain the mental facilities of a toddler, except for the fact they can walk and grab people.”

“We had a smart dog on the farm that could open doors with his teeth,” Pam said.

Dr. Klein smiled condescendingly. “Apparently they are even lower on the scale than your smart farm dog then. As I already told you, I believe they could be better compared to the virus being animated in a human body than a human or any sort of higher level animal.”

“But they can walk,” Pam said. “They can also bite. They must have some control of the host bodies, plus they seem to recognize us as prey.”

Dr. Klein waved her gun hand dismissively. Then she wiped her forehead with the same hand and Pam noticed it was shiny with sweat. The room was warm, but not hot. Perhaps Dr. Klein’s sudden sweat betrayed her true mood more than her calm and composed demeanor. If so, the woman did have iron control. Pam’s own palms felt slick with perspiration. Right now, it took all of her control to keep from howling in fear and despair.

“Are you feeling OK
, Dr. Klein?” Pam asked. “You look like you may have a fever or something. Of course, it could be nerves.”

“I’m
quite fine,” Dr. Klein said. “It seems to be a bit warm in this room though I am not a person who perspires excessively.” She gestured towards the corridor, blocked by closed doors and the Zed. “Unfortunately, the thermostat for this part of the building is on the other side of those doors.”

“L
et me feel your forehead,” Paul said. “You know I’m a medical student, and I worked in hospitals every summer before this one.” He started to rise from his seated position on the floor by the wall.

Pamela glanced at Paul
with renewed interest. So he was another student. He was probably also being very well paid for this summer internship. She thought it was odd that Dr. Klein had employed a medical student to do simple tasks like pushing bodies around, and she also wondered if his typical duties were as boring as hers were. She also wondered if his job had allowed him to learn more about Dr. Klein’s activities than she did, and that was why he had appeared so concerned before. Maybe Paul could help her figure out how to stop this.

“Stay
where you are,” Dr. Klein ordered. She pointed outside with her gun hand. “See, the cavalry has arrived.” She arranged her features in a complacent smile. “I told you I had everything under control.”

Pam and Paul swiveled their heads from the inside door to the outside door. T
wo large trucks rumbled into the circular drive in front of the building. Within moments two dozen battle clad men poured out of the back. A portly officer with a bad complexion scampered down from the passenger side of one truck. The drivers remained in place.

“They arrived very quickly,” Dr. Klein said, looking somehow self-satisfied despite everything that had occurred. “I told you two that we had nothing to worry about.
I am quite well connected with important people in Washington, DC.”

Everything’s under control? We have nothing to worry about?
Pam felt a renewed urge to bolt for the military trucks but controlled herself with an effort. She would have plenty of help within moments
. It’d be crazy to risk getting shot now when help is a few steps away.

Paul’s eyes travelled from the front driveway to the dead woman slumped over the receptionist desk. Then he glanced at the straining double doors that led back to the laboratories. His frowned deepened but he managed to keep from commenting.
Pam could take no comfort from his expression, but she felt relieved that he remained sitting beside her.

As Pamela watched two
burly, fatigue-clad men advanced towards the door. They seemed to be a sort of advance guard for the officer. The soldiers hesitated at Mr. Barnes’s sprawled form. Dr. Klein approached the doors, slapped the red unlock button, and propped the door open enough to call out to them. Pam saw she still held her gun, but it was dropped down to her side.

The officer approached with the two soldiers. The rest of the troop fell in behind them. Soon the small reception area was crowded with tall men in heavy boots and battle dress.
From Pam’s vantage point, seated against the wall, she mostly just saw a forest of boots. She considered darting between legs and slipping out in the confusion, but she doubted she would get far. She and Paul just slid up to their feet and stayed by the wall.

“They are in there,” Dr. Klein said, pointing to the inside doors. By now the frame had actually separated from the metal door in a few places. The rhythmic but irregular pounding continued.

“Those are people?” the officer asked.

“They are infected,” Dr. Klein said levelly. “I am not sure that they still retain much humanity, though they physically still resemble people. “

“So, they are insane,” the officer said. “Is that what you’re telling me, doctor? Some kind of infection made these people crazy?”

“I do not believe that
insanity would be a precise diagnosis either,” Dr. Klein said. “Insane people are more functional than this.” She spoke with the patient tones of an elementary school teacher lecturing a child. Pam winced with every repetitive thud against the weakening door frame, and she had no idea how Dr. Klein could maintain such an even tone. She felt certain that if she opened her mouth to speak her voice would emerge as a shriek.

“What do you mean?”
The officer jerked his head from facing the inner door to looking at Dr. Klein with a startled look.

“An insane person is still human. I believe these poor creatures are entirely subsumed by the virus. If you cannot subdue them, you have to kill them. To really kill them, it has to be severe brain damage. Anything
else and they just keep coming.”

“There’s no cure?
You’re saying that you expect us to just walk in and start shooting unarmed citizens?”

“I am not aware of any cure
,” Dr. Klein said. “In my opinion, the person is already dead. Even I haven’t figured out how to cure
that
. At least, I haven’t figured it out yet.”

Pam thought the doctor’s tone was too light and flippant for the situation.
She watched as the doctor hesitated over her next words. “Given some time, I may be able to find a way to keep the virus from spreading though. It will take some work. I plan to speak with your superiors about funding as soon as we have resolved the present crisis.”

“
Doctor, are you telling me a chest shot won’t kill them?” the officer asked incredulously. Then he stopped speaking as he searched for the right words. Dr. Klein had suggested the beasts were already dead. “Well, I mean, it won’t put them down?”

“You can cut off their heads, and their bodies will die, but their mouths will keep trying to bite you,” Dr. Klein said.
“They are quite persistent that way.”

“That seems a little far-fetched to me,” the officer said. “Dr. Klein, you
do have the ear of my superiors in Washington. I can’t ignore that. They commanded me to give you my full support. On the other hand I have seen a lot of things in my military career but I’m having a bit of trouble absorbing this.”

“
Enrico’s neck was partially damaged so his head hung at an odd angle,” Pam interjected. “He kept walking.” At this description of Enrico, Paul looked startled. He must have gotten out of the building without seeing as much of the carnage as Pam had. The officer glanced at her while the two soldiers in the front stared at the double doors. Dr. Klein barely blinked at Pam’s quick description of her lover’s injuries. Maybe she already knew about Enrico or maybe she barely cared. Pam continued breathlessly, “Also you should know that those things in there will try to grab you and bite you. If they do, you will turn into one of them. You can’t let that happen. Isn’t that right, Dr. Klein?”

Dr. Klein did not bother to favor Pam with a glance. “They are quite aggressive, and you
can’t intimidate them. They appear beneath the basest survival instincts that any common rodent would have. You must either render them immobile or them or put them down. They may resemble the people they used to be, but that is not what they are.”

“They don’t get scared, huh?” the officer asked.
“What is it they do want?”

“Judging by the marks on George’s arm,” Pam said, refusing to be intim
idated by Dr. Klein’s hard glare as the older woman finally spared her a glance, “they want to bite you. Maybe they will even want to eat you. That must be how the virus spreads.”

“What do you know about it?” Dr. Klein a
sked petulantly. “You barely know anything. Each time a person has morphed into one of these things, first the unfortunate individual died and then reanimated into one of these creatures.  That’s all we really know right now. If you want to be a scientist you cannot allow yourself to impulsively jump to conclusions.”

“Well, I am a pathology doctoral candidate,” Pamela said
stubbornly. “Plus, as you keep reminding me, I grew up on a farm. I know what a bite mark looks like.” At this, the officer favored Pamela with his attention. She knew he considered her a more sensible witness than her employer right now. This could not come from Pam’s credentials, but maybe simply from her more human reaction to the situation. She obviously appeared agitated, as they would expect a young civilian to be when confronted with a nightmare. Dr. Klein kept her cool.

Pam sucked in a breath and kept making her case. “George had a bite, but it shouldn’t have been fatal. Even if it was infected, he succumbed too quickly. They carry some sort of powerful infection that we don’t understand. The wound doesn’t have to be severe. The victims display symptoms and then succumb very quickly. Dr. Klein is right about one thing. They certainly appear to be dead first. Then they wake up as one of those creatures. Of course, we don’t have sophisticated instruments to measure brain death. But we are all pretty credible on that score. I’m a doctoral candidate in pathology, Paul here is a medical student, and of course you know who Dr. Klein is.”

“George is one of those?” Paul asked sadly.
He rested his chin on his clenched fists. “I lost track of him when things started to fall apart back in the clinic.” He shook his head and then slumped back against the wall. “Oh crap, he had a daughter who was going to get married next week.” Almost nonsensically he continued, “He told me I could come to the wedding.”

Pam
glanced at Paul sideways. She had no idea what had actually started the whole mess, but she could imagine a grizzly scene as Mr. Barnes and Mrs. Bell reanimated. The medical personal and assistants must have been totally taken by surprise which allowed the two new Zeds to wreak as much havoc as they had.