Parasite; The True Story of the Zombie Apocalypse by Doug Ward
It was like Christmas morning. The scalding hot water pounded into the back of my head, sending tiny droplets flying overhead, only to fall as a thin mist. Steam formed a thick cloud, limiting my vision. I breathed in, filling my lungs full of humid air. I would have never thought a hot shower with real bath soap could feel so good.
If the military was offering things like this, I never wanted to leave their protective embrace. There were a few other survivors. Some seemed like they were still in shock. Keeping mostly to their rooms, many only appeared during meal times; and even then, they ate alone. Most of the civilians seemed amicable to friendly conversation. Carefully avoiding discussions about what happened to them for fear of bringing back bad memories, we spoke on a variety of other subjects. It was funny, but current events from a few weeks ago seemed so distant and unimportant.
I spent most of my time in my husband's lab, typing readable documents from his terrible handwriting, washing work areas, and even bringing him dinner. The first day, he showed us some blood and saliva samples on a large monitor. He revealed the parasite that was attacking its human host; but, as of yet, he didn't know where it was living and how to get rid of it.
We stored the information on ten flash drives I'd pilfered from different labs and offices. Dean and I also made ten printed copies in the event we went back off the grid. Colonel O'Neill sent nurses to help Henry, but he turned them all away. Even though they had some expertise in the medical field, he just had too little for them to do.
I dried off and donned a clean set of clothes. These, they gathered from the dorm rooms and had belonged to their former occupants. There was little reason to think that we were doing something wrong. The students who owned the clothes were probably dead or, possibly even now, wandering about in search of their prey.
The shoes were the true gift. My feet had toughened up considerably over my long days on the roof, but when I slipped on a pair of clean socks and a slightly worn pair of Nikes, it seemed like heaven. I never realized how vulnerable I felt not having shoes on. Now I felt more prepared for some reason.
I passed by the others from our little group. They were in the student lounge, surrounded by a large pile of comic books borrowed from a few of the more nerdy student's rooms. Drew wasn't reading, though. He was sitting on a couch with his arm loosely around Amber's shoulder. Drew was changing. He was pulling away from his former passion in light of a new love, Amber. It even looked like he'd dropped a few pounds.
Dean sat alone, to one corner. His look was sullen. He eyed Amber and Drew with a mournful look. I felt for him. He was living with Julie for a little while, and
I believe her death, mixed with the new couple’s blossoming relationship, opened recent wounds. He now had some time to let his guard down. He wasn't occupied with trying to keep the group safe. He was finally able to mourn.
I walked up to my former neighbor. The happy couple paused their whispered conversation and watched me as I walked past. "Where's Hank?" I asked.
"He's with O'Neill," he answered without lifting his head. "I think he is giving him a report."
"I'm going outside to sit in the sun," I offered.
"Didn't you get enough of that on the roof?" he asked, humor still intact.
"I just want to enjoy the nice day. Who knows when we will get stuck inside a building again."
Dean glanced at the lovers and then locked eyes with me. "I'm with ya."
We made our way outside and sat under a large maple tree. The shade was cool on this sunny day. I slid off my newly acquired shoes and socks, letting the long grass slide between my toes. It would have been very peaceful if not for the sound of distant gunfire.
"I wish they could stop shooting for a while," I lamented.
"If they did, we would be overrun," he said sarcastically.
"No, I mean I wish it was over. I miss relaxing on a warm summer day."
"There's something wrong here," Dean said. "I just can't put my finger on it."
"I think all of this comfort is making you paranoid," I joked.
His demeanor sobered. "No, I'm serious. Something is not right."
I turned the conversation to more mundane subjects, but I could tell by Dean's look that he was still thinking about what could be amiss. We watched the troops come and go. Some were returning from the battle lines while others went out to join the struggle. It all seemed normal to me, but I had never been a part of a military operation.
After nearly two hours of our somewhat relaxing outing, we saw Henry walking in our direction. He looked tired and a bit out of sorts.
"How did it go?" I asked, rising to my bare feet.
"Fine," Hank replied. "Just fine."
"Are you going back to the lab?" Dean probed, rising to join us.
"No," he said. "I'm going to take a shower and then a nap. There isn't any more we can do at this point."
"What do we do now?" I inquired.
"We wait," he responded.
"For what?" I continued.
"A subject."
I didn't know what to say. Were they waiting for a human specimen?
Henry explained that he had shown Colonel O'Neill his findings. The commander seemed very interested and asked him how we could stop the parasite. Henry told him that without someone performing an autopsy, there was no way of knowing where the parasite set up shop in its human host. Someone would also be needed to perform tests to find some type of compound that could be used to destroy the invader.
My husband said the Colonel got angry when he explained that he had no expertise in this area. O'Neill curtly told him that he was going to have to step up and do things out of necessity, that we all would have to go way beyond what we thought our limitations were to overcome our present situation.
Henry said the military man nearly got violent when he explained that some parasites could be flushed out quickly by natural means, those being ones that made a home in the intestines. But others could take a long time to fully get rid of. The discovery of a cure is a long way off, and even then the process may take longer to work than the patient has to live.
"He just doesn't understand that these things take a lot of time and many highly trained personnel. I'm just one man and am working way outside of my field of expertise," he defended.
"What does he want to do?" Dean asked sympathetically.
"He wants to get me a subject to do further testing on," he mumbled, shoulders slumping under the weight of the responsibility. "I begin interviewing the civilians tonight."
"Interviewing for what?" Dean asked.
"Any specialized skills that may help," he said, then kissed me on the forehead and walked off toward our building.
I watched him as he disappeared inside the door. He looked so defeated. The colonel was asking too much from him.
Chapter 28
Henry
If the military was offering things like this, I never wanted to leave their protective embrace. There were a few other survivors. Some seemed like they were still in shock. Keeping mostly to their rooms, many only appeared during meal times; and even then, they ate alone. Most of the civilians seemed amicable to friendly conversation. Carefully avoiding discussions about what happened to them for fear of bringing back bad memories, we spoke on a variety of other subjects. It was funny, but current events from a few weeks ago seemed so distant and unimportant.
I spent most of my time in my husband's lab, typing readable documents from his terrible handwriting, washing work areas, and even bringing him dinner. The first day, he showed us some blood and saliva samples on a large monitor. He revealed the parasite that was attacking its human host; but, as of yet, he didn't know where it was living and how to get rid of it.
We stored the information on ten flash drives I'd pilfered from different labs and offices. Dean and I also made ten printed copies in the event we went back off the grid. Colonel O'Neill sent nurses to help Henry, but he turned them all away. Even though they had some expertise in the medical field, he just had too little for them to do.
I dried off and donned a clean set of clothes. These, they gathered from the dorm rooms and had belonged to their former occupants. There was little reason to think that we were doing something wrong. The students who owned the clothes were probably dead or, possibly even now, wandering about in search of their prey.
The shoes were the true gift. My feet had toughened up considerably over my long days on the roof, but when I slipped on a pair of clean socks and a slightly worn pair of Nikes, it seemed like heaven. I never realized how vulnerable I felt not having shoes on. Now I felt more prepared for some reason.
I passed by the others from our little group. They were in the student lounge, surrounded by a large pile of comic books borrowed from a few of the more nerdy student's rooms. Drew wasn't reading, though. He was sitting on a couch with his arm loosely around Amber's shoulder. Drew was changing. He was pulling away from his former passion in light of a new love, Amber. It even looked like he'd dropped a few pounds.
Dean sat alone, to one corner. His look was sullen. He eyed Amber and Drew with a mournful look. I felt for him. He was living with Julie for a little while, and
I believe her death, mixed with the new couple’s blossoming relationship, opened recent wounds. He now had some time to let his guard down. He wasn't occupied with trying to keep the group safe. He was finally able to mourn.
I walked up to my former neighbor. The happy couple paused their whispered conversation and watched me as I walked past. "Where's Hank?" I asked.
"He's with O'Neill," he answered without lifting his head. "I think he is giving him a report."
"I'm going outside to sit in the sun," I offered.
"Didn't you get enough of that on the roof?" he asked, humor still intact.
"I just want to enjoy the nice day. Who knows when we will get stuck inside a building again."
Dean glanced at the lovers and then locked eyes with me. "I'm with ya."
We made our way outside and sat under a large maple tree. The shade was cool on this sunny day. I slid off my newly acquired shoes and socks, letting the long grass slide between my toes. It would have been very peaceful if not for the sound of distant gunfire.
"I wish they could stop shooting for a while," I lamented.
"If they did, we would be overrun," he said sarcastically.
"No, I mean I wish it was over. I miss relaxing on a warm summer day."
"There's something wrong here," Dean said. "I just can't put my finger on it."
"I think all of this comfort is making you paranoid," I joked.
His demeanor sobered. "No, I'm serious. Something is not right."
I turned the conversation to more mundane subjects, but I could tell by Dean's look that he was still thinking about what could be amiss. We watched the troops come and go. Some were returning from the battle lines while others went out to join the struggle. It all seemed normal to me, but I had never been a part of a military operation.
After nearly two hours of our somewhat relaxing outing, we saw Henry walking in our direction. He looked tired and a bit out of sorts.
"How did it go?" I asked, rising to my bare feet.
"Fine," Hank replied. "Just fine."
"Are you going back to the lab?" Dean probed, rising to join us.
"No," he said. "I'm going to take a shower and then a nap. There isn't any more we can do at this point."
"What do we do now?" I inquired.
"We wait," he responded.
"For what?" I continued.
"A subject."
I didn't know what to say. Were they waiting for a human specimen?
Henry explained that he had shown Colonel O'Neill his findings. The commander seemed very interested and asked him how we could stop the parasite. Henry told him that without someone performing an autopsy, there was no way of knowing where the parasite set up shop in its human host. Someone would also be needed to perform tests to find some type of compound that could be used to destroy the invader.
My husband said the Colonel got angry when he explained that he had no expertise in this area. O'Neill curtly told him that he was going to have to step up and do things out of necessity, that we all would have to go way beyond what we thought our limitations were to overcome our present situation.
Henry said the military man nearly got violent when he explained that some parasites could be flushed out quickly by natural means, those being ones that made a home in the intestines. But others could take a long time to fully get rid of. The discovery of a cure is a long way off, and even then the process may take longer to work than the patient has to live.
"He just doesn't understand that these things take a lot of time and many highly trained personnel. I'm just one man and am working way outside of my field of expertise," he defended.
"What does he want to do?" Dean asked sympathetically.
"He wants to get me a subject to do further testing on," he mumbled, shoulders slumping under the weight of the responsibility. "I begin interviewing the civilians tonight."
"Interviewing for what?" Dean asked.
"Any specialized skills that may help," he said, then kissed me on the forehead and walked off toward our building.
I watched him as he disappeared inside the door. He looked so defeated. The colonel was asking too much from him.
Chapter 28
Henry