Message: Virus Verdict - Uncontainable

Date: 08/23/2012

Time: 20:42:54

Author: Dr. Richard Hamilton

Subject: Virus D176

/Message Begin

I apologize that this message is coming a bit late, but I suggest you read it now rather than later. It seems that our vaccine was yet again inconclusive. Upon the initialization of serum 137, the virus showed absolutely no immediate reaction.

It appears as though we've hit another dead end, and that this virus is finally a level 5…uncontainable.

It travels through the bloodstream, as we had previously proposed. Luckily it's not airborne, but it seems to favor transferring through contact with infected personnel. We initiated the virus in Subject 19 Tuesday evening (19:29), and he soon showed signs of brain corruption – NOT damage - almost immediately. It would seem that the virus acts as a guest, taking control over all portions of the brain, but not harming the existing tissues or cells. While our tests showed otherwise, Subject 19 had no idea he was infected. Instead, he actually claimed to be feeling better than he was prior to the injection.

Within about five hours, Subject 19 showed signs of incoherence and aggravation. After another hour, he was unconscious, and his brain began its transformation. Proper safety precautions didn't prevent him from biting one of our scientists (Reynolds) who is now deceased. Skin deterioration and decomposition began as early as any average dead body, even though he is still 'living'. Eventually, the subject's blood began to run thin, but his heart remained active.

Only, this whole failed experiment isn't the biggest problem we have right now. Apparently, we had an outbreak in another section of the country. This not only means there's an alternative source of generation for the virus, but that it is beginning to spread.

See this attached police recording, but be sure to delete it after you view it…


Video Attachment: Daily Township Police Station – Case # 29344

Shadows are cast against the grey walls of the small room, underneath a swinging light positioned above a silver, metal table. A man sits in a chair at one end, arms crossed over his chest, partially covering a ruined black hoodie. His hair is dark brown, and unkempt. He stares at the ground, not caring about his surroundings, but allowing his mind to keep him occupied.

Another man enters the room from a white door on the far side, wearing a white, buttoned shirt and black slacks. A brown, leather cross-draw holster loops under his arms and crosses at his back, but the gun is absent. He is older, in his mid-thirties, wearing a pair of reading glasses and holding a stack of papers and folders in his hands before him as he takes a seat across from the suspect.

He clears his throat, "I'm detective McMurphy, and I was just going over your alibi, Eric…"

He is unresponsive, acting as if the detective had never even entered the room. Instead, he stares at the table, tapping his foot on the ground.

It's not the first time Alan McMurphy has dealt with a situation like this, but he senses notable differences in the way the suspect is acting. He shows both signs of guilt and signs of denial. It would be a tough nut to crack, but he was confident in his own abilities.

"Do you…" Alan raises his brow, looking up from the papers across the table to Eric. "Do you want to take us back to last night, or should I?"

Eric blinks hard, and begins licking the inside of his cheek. He only glances up for a minute, across the table at Alan, studying his character. He'd been explaining his story all night long, only to be laughed at and accused a liar.

Alan doesn't speak, for he is doing the same thing. Instead, he crosses his left leg over his right, rests his chin in his left hand and drums the table with his right. Narrowing his eyes to slits, it's as if he's trying to see inside Eric, to the truth within.

Once Eric realizes that Alan is declining to speak, he shakes his head, muttering 'no'.

Alan nods slowly, staring for a few more seconds before giving in. "Well," he sighs, removing a piece of paper from a manila folder. "The police report…report….report…" he repeats as he looks it up and down.

Eric uncrosses his arms, resting them on the table and letting his eyes rest on the wall behind Alan.

"You're Eric…a friend of 'Miss Rachel Delmont'?" Alan questions. He waits for Eric to nod before continuing, "And you were at her house yesterday evening…correct?"

A nod will not suffice, "Yes," he mutters, looking away.

"She died around, say, 10 PM?" Alan shoots nonchalantly.

Eric's eyes open wide, sweat forming once again on his palms, "I'm…not sure."

Alan shrugs, opening the manila folder to reveal a couple of gruesome photographs snapped at the crime scene. They depict the victim, Rachel Delmont, brutally beaten. Blood is splattered on almost every wall of the room she was lying in, with her neck torn open and her right arm half missing up past the elbow. Long shreds of skin dangle from the open wounds, her blue eyes wide with fear, her mouth still screaming for help. Her clothing is stained with her own blood, and her once beautiful blonde locks matted to her forehead.

"Christ, what did you do?" Alan asks appalled, "Eat her?"

Eric suddenly lunges forward in rage, but Alan holds his ground. "IT!"

Alan waves for Eric to settle down. Once he is back in his seat, with his fists un-balled, Alan slides a picture to him.

"What do you mean 'it'?" Alan asks, keeping a close eye out for anymore sudden reactions.

Eric continues staring at the picture, "I…mean that this – thing. It, ate her, not me."

Alan removes his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Oh, Eric, Eric, Eric…do you realize there's no evidence stating that there was indeed a third party present at the time of death? We only found Rachel's decaying skin and your hair samples."

"It wasn't human…" Eric growled.

This didn't intimidate Alan, he just laughed. "Really? So, want to tell me what it was?"

"For God's sake, believe me!" Eric shouted, "It was a zombie!"

Not a second later, the door exploded open and three men stormed in. The one in front was tall man, wearing a white lab coat over a grey shirt and khaki pants. His hair was white, and he wore big rounded glasses. His face was full of anger and determination.

The two men behind him were identical, both wearing dark suits of armor, with their faces covered by big black helmets with red goggles and a filtration system. They held military grade assault rifles in their hands, fingers on the triggers.

"That's enough," the scientist said to Eric. He turned to Alan, "Detective, I'm asking you to forget this whole case, never mention it again."

Alan was in complete shock, and he stood shakily before exiting the room…leaving behind the paperwork and photographs on the desk without another word.

"Grab those," The scientist ordered one of his grunts. Without a word, the closest one proceeded over, grabbed the documents and handed them back to him.

Eric was out of his chair, slowly backing away to the corner of the room. His eyes were flying from the gunmen to the scientist as his panic arose.

"Are you sure, what you saw last night, was indeed an infected personnel, and not just an average psychopath, possibly under the influence of a controlled substance?" the scientist asked slowly.

Eric began trembling, "It…it was a zombie," he choked out.

The scientist held his hands behind his back, "I see…well, I tried to give you a way out…" He exited the room, leaving the two armed guards behind.

Eric crouched in the corner, "A-are…"

The guards raised their weapons simultaneously as Eric screamed, and the footage cut-out to black…


Thanks for reading!

Chapter 1 coming soon!

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- Legkicker