Waking the Zed

The Hospital of the Damned




The flight took less than twenty minutes, including the rapid take-off and landing. To Pam it seemed almost as if the machine had bounced up and bounced down again. After they landed, passengers that could walk were herded out of the helicopter and into a large green transport truck. This included Paul who still had his hands fastened with plastic cuffs.

He had calmed down and just looked pale and listless. His eyes flitted over to Pam’s face, but she just shook her head and frowned. She wanted to tell him to stay cool, but her advice had been useless a half hour before, and she doubted he would listen to her now. If he was going to cooperate it would have to be his own decision.

Dr. Klein had to be carried between two of the burly soldiers. She appeared unconscious, but still murmured some vague phrases, like somebody talking in her sleep.

The truck lurched, jarring the occupants who were mostly uncomfortably perched on benches in the back. Then it seemed to speed through a gated area, and finally towards a long low building. They pulled up into a circular drive in front of a squat and solid two story building. The sign simply said Medical. A large white sign informed visitors that this was a secure area intended only for authorized visitors. Anybody else should check in to another building for an escort or find the main infirmary a few yards away. She doubted that this building was a simple hospital or clinic, but rather it must be some sort of secured medical facility. Pam wondered what types of patients this place normally housed. She was pretty sure that today’s situation was unique.

An officer with a white doctor’s coat over his fatigues emerged from the building as Pamela’s group was herded out of the transport and into the sunshine of a warm summer afternoon. He stared as two soldiers struggled with the turned creature, and then he bent over the stretcher that contained the incoherent Dr. Klein.

“Look,” Pam said as she stepped forward, “you have to listen to me.” She introduced herself as Pamela Stone, offering her credentials as concisely as she could. Then she also mentioned that Paul was a witness and a medical student. She noticed that Paul was trying to stand as passively as possible in the hope that somebody would notice and remove his handcuffs. She hoped to gain some credibility quickly. In a rush she tried to explain everything she had seen and heard this morning.

Captain Crawford nodded as the doctor glanced at him. “These two may have some good information. We’d be remiss to ignore credible witnesses. They are only company interns, but highly educated ones. You should know that the young man has been a bit uncooperative though.”

The military doctor was tall, lanky, and had a thin and pleasantly homely face that reminded Pam of Abraham Lincoln. His grim, almost hangdog expression completed the look. Pam tried to keep the trembling out of her voice as she spoke. “The thing is, Dr. Klein needs to be restrained in case she turns. Paul got a little excited back at the site. But he is not a danger, and she is. You can see what that other mad thing has become. If they bite us, or maybe even scratch us, we will be infected and likely doomed.”

“Dr. Klein’s injury doesn’t appear serious,” Dr. Lincoln said.

“One of the guys back at the lab got bitten. His name was George. George’s injury was a bit worse, but didn’t look that bad either,” Pam said, trying to control her voice. “He expired very quickly. She’s hanging on longer. I don’t know if that is encouraging or not.” She rubbed her face in frustration. “Honestly, I don’t know much more than you do. I have more questions than answers. I just need to realize that you do too. You don’t know what this thing is.”

While Dr. Lincoln digested Pam’s words, Captain Crawford asked Paul if he could behave now and the younger man nodded and mumbled, “Yeah, I’m really sorry.” At a nod from the captain a soldier removed the cuffs. Pamela noticed Paul glance back down the narrow road like he wanted to bolt, but he managed to allow himself to be guided into the building. They were all led inside, and then down a flight of stairs. They were taken to a large room that looked like a sick ward. Cots lined the walls. There was a small attached office off to one side of the entrance. A group of people, dressed in an assortment of scrubs and uniforms crowded into the small office, huddled over a monitor.

As the two soldiers slid Dr. Klein off the stretcher and then guided her into one of the cots, Pamela said, “You’ve got to restrain her.” The thin doctor and Captain Crawford exchanged a glance. Pam whirled towards Crawford and said, “You saw what those things were like.”

“She’s not like that,” Crawford said. He indicated what he meant by that with his eyes as he glanced at the mad creature.

“She isn’t like that yet,” Pamela said. “She will appear to be unconscious, and maybe she will even seem dead, and then she will come back like that poor thing.” She gestured at the infected man who still struggled and growled despite the control the two large soldiers had over him. Some sort of fluid seemed to be leaking down out of his mouth like an extra disgusting sort of drool. As the creature tried to wrench himself away from the soldiers, he appeared to have injured his body even more. Fluids had already stained one of the soldier’s shirts and Pam suggested that the men should have protective clothing as they did not know how the infection might spread. “I’m sure it will pass through a bite, but I don’t know if is absorbed by the skin.”

“You say he wants to bite?” the doctor asked Pam as she took a seat on one of the cots that was positioned as far from Dr. Klein as possible.

“Yes, they seem to want to feed on us,” Pam said. “But even if they just bite, it spreads the infection. That may be a motivation too. If they get a snack that’s just dessert I guess. That’s what Dr. Klein thought. They want to feed on us, but the virus just wants to spread.” She shrugged. “Look, I don’t know what passes through their minds, or if they even really have minds.” Then she rubbed her eyes, trying to focus on making her case without seeming like she had lost her mind too. “Calling them insane would be insulting the mad. If Dr. Klein could speak right now, she’d agree with that much.”

While they watched an orderly ducked in to try and take a blood sample from the enraged thing. That proved difficult, even though the creature’s arms were restrained, and a hood had been fixed on its head. Dark fluid entered the syringe as the nervous orderly took his sample. It did not look like bright red blood so much as refuse. An odor of rot started to permeate the clean air of the infirmary room.

“The creature, then, is not really alive is it?” Paul asked. “It’s like some sort of zombie.”

“Yeah,” Pamela said. “Dr. Klein woke the Zed. She even said it before we left Future Faith.” At that, as if roused by the mention of her name, the older woman gasped and cried out, and then lay still. The doctor rushed over to her cot, pushing aside a couple of male nurses. He put a finger to her neck, frowned, and said, “She’s gone. That can’t be right.”

Now the doctor and one male nurse worked to try to revive her. Her chest inflated and deflated as the nurse pumped in oxygen. Her body bounced as Dr. Lincoln applied charged pads. After a few moments they relented. Dr. Lincoln stood up. “She’s dead.”

“She may not be gone for long,” Pamela insisted. She glared at Captain Crawford. He studied her back for a moment, and then he nodded. A solider bent over to fasten the doctor’s slim wrist to the bed frame with a light plastic cuff.

“Well, her dead body is cuffed to the cot,” the doctor said. “How far can she go?”

Pamela shrugged. “If it was up to me, I would shoot her in the head. Either that, or hit her with a hammer.” The doctor looked at her in horror, and she shrugged. “It’s just a suggestion.”

“I second it,” Paul said. “She will wake up.” He gestured to the light wound on her neck. “That gash looks minor, and it shouldn’t have been enough to kill her this quickly. It shouldn’t have killed her at all. She was infected. I know it’s difficult for you to believe us, but you have to listen to us.”

“I don’t have enough information to confirm anything,” the doctor said. He shook his head and regarded both Pam and Paul with a strained expression. By this time, Pamela had noticed a nametag which told her he was Dr. Lincoln. Pam blinked, thinking he had resembled the famous president. Her mind wandered off for a moment, recalling that the original Lincoln was not believed to have any living descendants, but she wondered if he was some sort of relative. The sixteenth president had always been a sort of personal hero to Pam. In fact her father always claimed descent from Lincoln’s grandfather. Somehow that made her trust the military doctor.

As the doctor caught her staring at his badge, he nodded and said, “Yeah, I hear that Lincoln thing all the time,” as if he read her mind. “We can discuss my family tree later, but we need to get back on track. This wound could have been infected by something quite explicable, or she could have passed from other natural causes. She is not a young woman. She covered up the wound, and apparently nobody even thought to give her an antibiotic before.”

“It wouldn’t have done any good,” Paul said sourly. He sat down hard on a narrow cot. “We keep calling it an infection, but it’s not bacterial. Dr. Klein called it a virus. You know that she helped invent the virus blocking protein. I’d imagine she knew a lot about the subject. Antibiotics won’t help.”

“Would the virus blocker help?” Dr. Lincoln asked.

“That’s a good question,” Pam said. “She never suggested it though. It would be very helpful to go back to Future Faith and examine her papers.” Pam took a deep breath. Despite the rising tide of panic, some part of her educated and conscious mind kept throwing sparks. “In fact it’s even possible it took her longer to succumb because she’d been exposed to the virus blocker. Also, I really have no idea of how much time elapsed between the time of the initial outbreak and the time I found her in the reception area. There are a lot of possibilities.”

“Were either of you scratched by the things?” Doctor Lincoln asked.

“No, I managed to avoid them,” Pamela said. “It was a near thing, and at the time I didn’t even realize the true nature of the danger. I just wanted to stay away from those things. But I believe I’m clean. I did try to clean George’s wound before he died, so it is possible some fluid got on my skin but I tried to avoid it. I know I already mentioned that I’m working on my doctorate in pathology, and I’ve had a lot of lab experience. I’m not unaware of proper procedures.”

“What about you?” he asked Paul. The young man regarded him for a long moment, frowned, and then shook his head. From what Pam could see right now Paul did not appear injured either.

“Well, let me get a blood sample anyway,” the doctor said. “And I’ll have you examined to be sure nothing abnormal shows up. Neither of you appears ill or feverish. That seems like a good sign.”

Paul settled back on the cot without bothering to remove his shoes or get under the light blanket. They had been through a trying day, but her body felt electrified with adrenaline again. Beyond that, the presence Dr. Klein’s prone corpse and the restrained creature on the other side of the room, removed any thoughts of trying to rest. She did not know if the zombies got tired, but this one seemed to grow more indolent as time passed with the heavy bag over its head.

She stopped herself from pacing restlessly down the narrow aisle between the cots, glanced down at Paul, and saw that he actually looked as if he had fallen asleep. Pam still felt as if her nerves were tingling with an electric charge of fear. Her stomach felt sour. She could not understand how Paul could fall asleep under any circumstances.

Just then, a uniformed soldier wheeled in a cart with sandwiches and drinks. Pam thought she should eat something though her very guts rebelled at the thought. Maybe I’ll calm down and be able to think better if I have a sandwich.

She selected a wrapped turkey sandwich and can of sweet tea from the cart. The drink felt cool and soothing, but the sandwich seemed gluey. After what she had seen and smelled, the turkey meat repelled her. She spit out the barely chewed remains back into her napkin. She finally ripped it out of the middle and just ate the bread and condiments. It still seemed like paste in her mouth but she managed to swallow. After Pam finished, the food seemed to sit in her gut like an undigested rock.

As the soldier left, Pam noticed that he left the infirmary door slightly ajar. She watched as some men and women in scrubs passed, and then occasionally a uniformed soldier. The doctor took a phone call, and then spoke to his assistant in urgent tones. He pulled the sheet back from Dr. Klein and shined a light into her eyes. She still appeared, unsurprisingly, quite dead. Her thin cuffed hand lay limply just outside the sheet. Pam wondered what he was looking for. She wished somebody would cart the body into another room, preferably locked and far away. But she knew it was not for her to presume to give orders right now.

The lone armed guard answered a cell phone call and stepped outside the room. No matter, now the hooded creature showed little more inclination to move than Dr. Klein did. Paul snored, seemed to mumble something, and then grew quiet again. Amazingly, Pam started to grow bored as the anxiety seeped from her body.

Now she felt hunger pangs again and wished she had taken another sandwich off the cart. She thought about asking for something else to eat but the soldiers looked very stern and the medical personal were all consumed with other tasks.

She had been about to plead with Dr. Lincoln for permission to leave this place and return home when Captain Crawford rushed back into the infirmary room. He glanced around quickly, and then approached the doctor. “We have a new situation,” he said.

“What is it?” Dr. Lincoln said. He looked alarmed by the expression on the officer’s face. In the few hours that Pam had known him, he had always carefully arranged his features in an expression of calm authority. He had simply appeared stern and professional when Dr. Klein had unexpectedly crashed. Now he looked frightened.

“About a half dozen of those Zed things must have walked out of Future Faith,” he said. “We got the place sealed off pretty quickly, but they could have even left before we arrived. The side door by the parking garage wasn’t locked and could be opened by leaning into it.”

“Where’d they go?”

“We know that some of them stopped traffic on the road, just wandering aimlessly about. A couple of drivers, and then a couple of state police troopers left their vehicles and got ambushed. There’s holy hell out there, and it happened fast.”

“Is it contained?” the doctor asked. Some alarm tinged his normally mild voice.

“Hell, no,” Captain Crawford said. “An injured trooper managed to pull his dead partner back into their car. We might be able to track them down, but observers told us that a handful of other injured civilians got back into their cars and drove off. Nobody got license plates. I’ve got men trying to track them down, but they could be anywhere.”

Pamela lost her urge to leave the secure building. This place, at least seemed safe from outside threats. Getting back to her car and just driving back to her apartment to resume already seemed like a distant fantasy now.

The grim soldiers appeared able to contain the threats they had allowed inside this place at least. She felt lucky now that she had no close friends or family nearby. Her parents and siblings were hundreds of miles away. At this point in her life she did not even have a pet to worry about.

Hopefully, by tomorrow I can call my folks and explain what’s going on. There’s no use bothering them this time of night. Then Pam froze. Even if I could call my parents, how am I going to explain this? They’ll think I’ve lost it and Dad will probably hop on the first plane out here. The last thing I want is for them to leave Iowa for this place.

Captain Crawford told an orderly to turn on the small TV mounted high on one wall. A news flash informed the public about the virus without giving specifics.

If this news goes national, Mom and Dad will find out anyway.

The announcement said that any injured people should immediately report to the nearest hospital for treatment. Of course, Pamela knew that the only current treatments were either containment or destroying the host’s brains. She wished she could get back to Future Faith and find Dr. Klein’s papers. There had to be clues on her computer or among her papers.

Things would only get much worse, very quickly, if the contaminated were allowed to wonder around freely. They could transform into these creatures at any time.

Distracted by the news, nobody noticed Dr. Klein’s eyes pop open. Broken capillaries gave her eyes a reddish tint, and her skin appeared pale and somewhat greenish. She had always been fairly thin, but dehydration made her appear almost skeletal.

She jerked suddenly, and the cuff slid down her hand. The soldier must not have tightened the cuff much because he didn’t want to hurt Dr. Klein. Who thought that frail looking woman could be such a threat? Another jerk freed her hand and she tumbled out of bed. Pam felt frozen with horror as she watched her old boss’s reanimated body land clumsily, but somehow find footing. The small woman rose and then practically fell into Dr. Lincoln. Without thinking, he put up his hands to catch her as if she were a stumbling patient. Before anybody could react, she had her mouth buried in his chest. The doctor screamed shrilly.

Captain Crawford pulled his weapon and ended Dr. Klein’s second life in an instant. The shot still rang in Pam’s ears as she watched blood start to seep through the doctor’s chest as he tried to remain standing. He had clearly been bitten deeply.

Pam felt only pity as Dr. Lincoln tried to cover the bite wound with his hand and sat heavily on the cot that had just contained Dr. Klein a moment before. Excited by the disturbance, the hooded Zed moaned and jerked on his own cuffs. He had been more carefully fastened, and his restraints held. Captain Crawford still held his weapon. He seemed to be considering using it on Dr. Lincoln, but in the end he shouted for the guard to rush back in and make sure the doctor was securely restrained on the cot.

A nurse hesitated, but then approached the doctor to treat his wound. She wore two layers of gloves and a surgical mask. At this time, nobody could be sure how the contamination spread. Dr. Lincoln appeared to be in shock, and he submitted to his treatment without complaint.

Incredibly, Paul slept through the entire scene. Pamela was still rooted in place, in her own sort of shock. She finally moved her head to view the door. This place no longer seemed like a haven of security. These people did not know what they were doing and neither did anybody else. The threat was entirely new, and it was not likely to end soon.

Each time it seemed like the Zed things were under control, some new thing happened and the situation turned for the worse. We have to quit making the same mistakes. Pamela felt sorry for Dr. Lincoln, but she truly believed that the kindest and wisest thing that Captain Crawford could have done would have been to shoot him in the head right away. If I got bitten, that’s what I’d want. The animated corpses can’t be anything other than abominations.

Two men in fatigues stepped into the room with a light stretcher. They quickly scooped up Dr. Klein’s lifeless body and exited. A second pair of men entered after them, armed only with a mop and cleaning clothes. Within minutes they cleaned the floor and walls of Dr. Klein’s blood and brain matter. After they left, it seemed to Pamela as if the incredible doctor had never been in the room at all.

But now the officer turned to Pamela. “Are you sure you weren’t infected?”

Pamela bit her lip and shook her head. “I wasn’t bitten, if that’s what you mean. In some ways I was just lucky. But as I’ve mentioned several times, I’m a pathology doctoral candidate. I took precautions from the beginning. If you want to get somebody to examine me, it’s fine. But I wasn’t even scratched.” The Pam paused and met Captain Crawford’s direct look. She shook her head. “But no, I’m not sure that the virus can’t be transmitted through the air.”

“What about him?” The officer nodded towards Paul, who still slept. Before he had been restless, but now he was still. Pam could not understand how he could have remained unconscious through the entire disturbance, but perhaps the Taser had affected him somehow.

“I don’t’ think he was infected either,” Pam said. She shrugged. “I wasn’t with him the whole time.”

“How do we know it’s not airborne?” Captain Crawford asked.

“We can’t yet,” Pam said. “But if it was, both you and I would be infected by now. So would Paul. I really need to get back to Future Faith to look at Dr. Klein’s research papers. She mentioned them briefly but I wasn’t privy to her research. Before we got evacuated from the building, Dr. Klein wanted the officer in charge to know she had her research stored there. She wanted to stop him from just destroying the building. But like you, I have more questions than answers right now.”

Captain Crawford took a moment to absorb her words. Then he shook his head. “Well, I have a nasty little surprise for you.” His face had become stern and commanding again, and Pam was not sure if she feared the Zed or this man more. “The blood tests came back, and you and Paul have some of the same new proteins as the confirmed Zed infection. What do you think about that?”

Pam took a step back, trying to absorb this new information. She had certainly not seen Paul being injured, and she knew she had not actually been bitten by the malignant things. She forced her mind to quiet as she took stock of her own body.

She shook her head resolutely, “I’m not sick, Captain. I don’t know what to think. In some cases, an airborne variation might not be as virulent as a contact infection. Maybe the weakened form of the virus gives our bodies time to adopt so we don’t become symptomatic. That is, if it is a virus as Dr. Klein supposed.” Pam shrugged. “She developed it so I guess she would know if anybody would.”

Then she paused and tried to examine the new information from a different angle. She felt frazzled and found it hard to concentrate. We don’t have enough information.

“Look,” she said finally, “here again is what I think. Dr. Klein kept copious notes about her research. What we need to do is get back to Future Faith and find out what she did. She told me that she ran dozens of animal tests. It is likely that we would uncover some clues back there. I could help with that because I worked there. I’m not a doctor, but as I’ve told you before several times, I’m a pathology student working on my doctorate. Dr. Klein selected me for an internship because of my specialty.” She glanced at Paul and added, “He could probably help too. He’s a medical student, and there had to be some reason Dr. Klein hired him. One thing you can say about her is she was pretty selective.”

“Why’s he asleep?” Captain Crawford said. “I’ve known some cool characters in my time with the military, but I’ve never seen any of them sleep through a gunshot ringing a few feet from their heads.”

“I’ve been wondering the same thing,” Pam admitted. “I don’t know what his schedule was like before the incident. He could have been up for hours before this thing started, and then had to fight his own way out. Maybe it was the Taser shot. There could be a reasonable explanation for it.”

“He slept through a gunshot,” Captain Crawford repeated. “That seems peculiar.”

Pam wanted to protect Paul, but she had no real reason to argue with the officer. She glanced at Paul again, relieved to see his chest rise and fall in a regular rhythm. He appeared to be simply napping. She took a deep breath, stepped towards the young man, and put a hand on his forehead. He did not feel feverish. George had definitely appeared feverish before he succumbed. As she touched him and softly called out to him, his eyes opened and he looked bewildered. Then he glanced around, saw Pamela standing above him, and frowned. “I had some kind of nightmare.”

“You may have woken up into a worse one,” Pamela said, sparing nothing with her words or expression. She nodded towards Captain Crawford. “He says we’re all infected. We just don’t have symptoms. The virus must be airborne.”

“Did you get scratched or bitten by the things?” Paul asked, slowly rising into a sitting position. His fair hair was tousled, and Pam thought he looked boyish and uncertain.

“No, I’m sure of it,” Pam said decisively. “But Enrico was spitting some goo out of his mouth. I didn’t feel like I was sprayed by it, but I can’t be sure. I don’t know if the stuff is absorbed by the skin, or if it is airborne. Anyway, our blood tests were positive, but we’re not symptomatic.”

“You mean that we’re not lurching around trying to eat people?” Paul asked.

Just then the infirmary door opened again. Three soldiers ushered in a small group of people. Pamela quickly counted off three men and two women. One of the men wore a state trooper’s uniform, and he had heavy bandages wrapped tightly under a tattered sleeve. One woman’s hand was entirely engulfed in some sort of surgical wrapping. The other three just seemed to sport an assortment of cuts and bruises, some covered by small bandages. They all looked tired and bewildered.

“Sir,” the lead soldier said to Captain Crawford. He saluted. The officer nodded back.

“These people all turned themselves in at hospitals, and we ushered them here as ordered,” the soldier said. Another soldier directed them each to take a cot. As they entered, Dr. Lincoln seemed to rouse himself on his own cot, but he only gently pulled at the cuff, and then quieted again. The infected creature, still hooded and cuffed on the other side of the room, remained quiet. The newcomers selected their cots and stared at the creature.

Captain Crawford tried to arrange his grim and rugged features into some semblance of a welcoming smile. “You folks make yourselves at home. We’ll have nurses here promptly to triage and treat you. This is for your own safety, and the safety of the general population. I appreciate your cooperation.”

“Do you mind giving us some information?” the state trooper asked as he sat on one of the clean cots. “I’d like to know what’s going on, and also I’d like to find out where my partner is.” He glanced from Captain Crawford to the creature by the opposite wall. “I’m also curious about that guy.”

“I don’t have information about your partner, Officer,” Captain Crawford said. “We’ll be sure to fill you in with as much as we know. Right now, we just need to take care of your health.”

One of the women looked like a body builder, with developed arms showcased by a sleeveless shirt. She refused to sit. One large bicep had been covered by white bandages. The other one displayed an intricate tattoo. The white cloth of her bandage was stained pink at the edges. She looked angry, and Pam could visualize her getting out of her vehicle to yell at the creatures that had blocked her car. She might have tried to intimidate it as she, no doubt, intimidated most people. Then she must have found out that the Zed did not get intimidated no matter what anybody did to threaten them.

The woman beside her was lean, like a runner. She had a spiky haircut, artfully dyed platinum blonde at the tips. The pair stood close, as if personal space was not something they kept between them.

The other two looked like ordinary business men, probably on their way home from office jobs. They did not appear to know each other, and they silently took their places on cots.

“We need to know what’s happening here,” the body builder said. Her square jaw, cropped haircut, and aggressive stance made Pamela take a step back. She considered herself a tough farm girl, but nothing like this obviously strong and domineering woman. The woman’s developed arms looked as thick as Captain Crawford’s. For some reason the woman seemed to be addressing Pam, and not the officer.

“I’m like you,” Pam said. She spread her hands in a gesture she hoped was peaceful. “They brought me here.” She glanced at Captain Crawford sideways. “I might know a little more than you do but not much.”

“We don’t have any information to give you right now,” Captain Crawford said. “You are simply here to be tested and treated. You’re welcome to watch the TV, and we will have some more food delivered right away. Other than that, we’ll give you any information as quickly as we can. For the time being we need you all to stay here. That’s for your own protection and safety.”

Now the room held eight patients, nine counting the Zed still chained on the far side. Four armed soldiers guarded the room, while a handful of men and women in scrubs and surgical masks took blood, gave injections, and checked wounds. None of the new injured people had been cuffed so far, but now one soldier’s job seemed to be to man the door and make sure it was kept closed and locked. At a knock, he glanced through the small, reinforced window, saw the ID of a young man in workman’s clothes, and let him enter. The young man pulled a cart, like the last one, piled with wrapped sandwiches and cans of drinks.

Since Pam had eaten little all day, her stomach almost ached with hunger now that the cart reminded her of food. She picked up roast beef and forced herself to sit on an empty cot and eat it. Her stomach seemed to have settled, and she had no problem swallowing the food. Though the room had been cleaned, the air still smelled tainted with the combined odors of rot and disinfectant. The food still seemed to drop into her stomach like a weighted lump, but she did not believe she was ill. Every bite just seemed to remind her of the way those things would gnaw into human flesh, and that thought made her wonder if eating animal flesh was so different. After the sandwich had been reduced to crumbs, she opened a small can of orange juice and washed it down.

She had no way to know the time, or how many hours she had been in this room. Somehow Pam had entirely forgotten that she had slipped her cell phone in her pocket back in the lab. Besides using her phone for checking the time, she had no use for it now. There was nobody she could think to call at the moment anyway. She hardly thought it would be a good idea to concern her parents just now. The only window was the small one on the door, and that only showed a tiny section of the lighted hallway.

Her body had been charged with adrenaline most of the day, but now, against her will, she felt the need to close her eyes for a moment. And yet, she was locked in this room with six new infected people. None of them were restrained. She started to drift off, but then kept waking herself up with a start. Gruesome images flooded her mind, and she was barely certain if they were memories or fragments of dreams.

Still the presence of the armed guards reassured her. They looked fresh and alert. Each one met her glance with the same suspicion they showered on the other patients.

Incredibly, as Pam allowed herself to sit back on the bed, she noticed that each one of the other patients had sunk back on the cots and seemed to fall asleep. Only Pamela kept fighting the urge. She sank back onto the hard pillow and allowed herself to close her eyes, but she kept her fist clenched hard. This was an old trick she had learned to keep herself from falling asleep when she needed to close her eyes for a moment during her studies. The trick finally failed. Pamela woke with a start to find the room dim and most occupants snoring.

She heard low voices emanating from the small office. That room’s door had been closed, but the small reception window had been left open a crack. Perhaps the office’s occupants wanted to be sure they heard what went on in the ward room, but it also allowed their voices to echo out. As Pam turned her head, she noticed that Dr. Lincoln’s cot had been rolled away. She wanted to sit up so she could see if he was still in the room, but some kept instinct kept her still.

“We need to clean this room out,” Captain Crawford said. “We have enough subjects contained in the brig, and these infected people are just accidents waiting to happen.”