Chapter 2: Part 9, Still Born

Note from the Auther: How's it Going? Well chapter two is coming to a close and there seems to be a lot of you who are into this story. If you would like be on the Zombie Me mailing list then shoot me an email at aw3sk3r@yahoo.com . Let me know if you like where the story is going or if you are confused at any part. Well enjoy! - William Zedalis

Sergeant Ridgeman had received the call from Adams during the interrogation of the suspects Larsen and Delholme. Although he was annoyed at the interruption he welcomed the chance to get away from Raimi Walters. Ominously dark was one way to characterize Raimi, but Ridgeman felt that sociopath fit him better. Ridgeman had seen plenty of gore and death during both Iraqi conflicts to give any sane man nightmares for life. The stuff he had witnessed as a mercenary for hire under Vion's Raimi Walters though, scared him shitless. He had never met anyone who worked independent of emotion before, but meeting Raimi had changed his whole outlook on life. He still wasn't sure if there was a god, but he knew now that the devil did indeed exist, and he walked the earth as Raimi Walters.

"So what do we know?" Ridgeman asked his team as he settled himself at the head of the debriefing room and sipped a cup of strong smelling tea. Adams looked at Ridgeman and then panned his head to the right and nodded to Quincy. All of them wore the same light swat uniform that Ridgeman sported. If it weren't for the guns, knives, and communications equipment that adorned their uniforms they would've been mistaken for a J. Crew commercial. Quincy stood up and walked to the front of the large boardroom table. Like everything here at Vion, the table was over the top with a gothic elegance. Its black mirrored surface reflected a punched tin ceiling engraved with serpentine vines.

The deep lines in Quincy's face expressed unspoken disquiet. "As predicted by Mr. Walters' infection model, it appears that a second level infection has possibly occurred." Quincy referred to what virologists called a communication of virus particles by direct transmission. "A patient was admitted into Mass General this evening with a finger amputation. Shortly after admission he exhibited classical signs of a Virachrome infection ranging from a bell curve response in his white blood cell population, cardiac myofibrillation, and localized muscle seizure. Doctors sympathetic to our situation notified Vion of a possible exposure. Following hospital protocol the ER called into the CDC for a pathogenic specialist for an emergency consultation. Those calls were intercepted by Lieutenant Adams at O-two hundred this morning and our operatives were sent out to collect the specimen under the premise of quarantine. They are currently en route to this facility. A concurrent interrogation is proceeding before the specimen looses coherency. It looks promising sir. Simons will call us as soon as any viable information has been obtained."

Quincy stood at attention and waited for any questions the team might have. It was Sergeant Ridgeman who broke the silence, "Q, you look as if you have something more on your mind, what's troubling you?" Ridgeman's question not only conveyed concern, but also probed Quincy's expertise. Quincy had been Ridgeman's resident expert on the work that Vion had been doing. He was a communicable disease specialist and had been following an outbreak of Ebola deep in the heart of the Amazon. The outbreak had occurred within the confines of a Zapatista guerilla encampment. Vion's interest in Quincy was not only academic but also functional. The year that he had spent in such a dangerous environment alongside militant guerilla fighters had demonstrated the man's versatility, and Vion appreciated that.

"Sir, it's just the nature of this particular pathogen. We're not even sure if common dermal exposure can cause infection, and god forbid if it's airborne." Quincy looked at the men in front of him. "We don't know this and yet we sent two of our men to pick up a specimen. We should have just sanitized the ER." The portent of Quincy's words hung heavily in the air.

"I appreciate your opinion and I believe your assessment is accurate. You and I both know that we are not in the jungle, and we can't just firebomb a village to eliminate a hazard. As for our team and the threat of exposure, we all accepted these positions and from what the people upstairs tell us the routes of exposure are mainly through fluid transmissions." Ridgeman could sense the unease coming from his men. None of them believed anything that came from Raimi or the scientists above. He was about to continue when there was movement off to his right.

Adams pressed a finger to his earpiece and spoke softly into the bud that protruded from it. Sure... Yes... and Visual... was all the men could hear as they watched him attentively. Adams pulled out a device that resembled a cell phone on steroids and placed it on the table in front of him. Almost immediately the wall behind Quincy lit up and the words "Connecting to Bluetooth Mobile Communicator..." flashed across the screen along with a small progress bar. Within seconds the bar was full and the inside of what seemed to be an ambulance appeared on screen. Centered on screen was a gurney with Alec securely strapped to its steal rails. Numerous IV's and infusion pumps whirred in the background while an erratic heart monitor pulsed out frenetic chirps.

Adams adjusted the signal from the communicator and pushed buttons on the display until the words Encrypted Feed appeared at the bottom of the screen. "This channel's secure, you may proceed Simons."

The entire boardroom jumped when Simon's face materialized on screen, his long black hair moved with every jostle of the truck. "Simons reporting Sir!" He quickly saluted and then turned to the heart monitor and turned the volume down. "I would put our ETA at approximately ten minutes. I thought that I should place a report because I feel that time may be of the essence. The victim is most certainly infected with our particular Virachrome. The viral titer is off the chart and its profile is identical to that of the suspected agent. The vic lost consciousness minutes ago after suffering a grand mal seizure and has been immobile since. Before losing coherency he reported being attacked at Saint Bernard's Cemetery earlier tonight. He described his attackers as, and I quote "Cerberus, Stitch face, and a dead man." He also reported that two of his friends were killed before he was able to escape." The men around the boardroom table exchanged nervous glances except for Sergeant Ridgeman who calmly absorbed the information. "Sir, if the vic's descriptions are accurate, it can mean only one thing..."

"...That Raimi's science projects have become active." Ridgeman said as he finished Adams' sentence. "Gentleman it seems that we are no longer looking for just stolen property. The scenario has changed, it's time we moved to plan B."

"Sir, what shall I do with the specimen from the ER?" Simon's question brought everyone's attention back to the body on the gurney. The heart monitors display showed a flat unchanging green line and a steady tone marked the passing of Alec into death.

"The total time from the onset of infection until heart failure was just a little less than two hours." Quincy said, shocked at how rapid the virus took hold and worked its malicious magic. He had seen the effects of this particular infection before, as they all had, and knew what would happen next.

"Render the body useless and bring it in for Raimi and his group. I'm sure they could use the spare parts." Everyone could see the look of scorn cross his face as the words come out. It wasn't that he was averse to gore, it was the fact that Raimi would welcome the prospect of fresh meat already infused with the virus, and Ridgeman disliked anything that made Raimi's job easier. He was paid to do only one thing, and that was to clean up the mess that Vion had unleashed upon the world.

"Yes Sir! Even though I've got the specimen secure, I still don't want it turning around me." Simon's gloved hand's grabbed a scalpel from a drawer above the gurney. Lining it up with Alec's closed eyelid he slid the blade into his eye and then quickly drove the blade deep into Alec's brain. Twisting the handle as he went made certain that the blade tore and sliced through Alec's midbrain. This ensured that Alec's trip into death would be one way. Without the primitive portion of his brain there would be no motor control to drive the reanimated body. He would be still born like Jonesy had been.