Change.

Dasutin

Word Count: 2,375.

It was strange, really, the way it happened. It was the greatest discovery of all time, proof of extra-terrestrial life. In late 2009, a meteor fell from the sky, it was massive. Though most of it burned in orbit a large chunk remained. They salvaged the meteorite and brought it to a top secret lab for study. Famous scientists revealed that it contained the remnants of what looked like virus. They were hailed as the greatest scientists and visionaries of the century.

‘Don’t forget Serge, you were one of those scientists.’ His thoughts were so overpoweringly loud in the cold, dark steel and tile room. ‘You were one of the greatest men alive, Serge Fitz Gilbert, supervisor of the Meteor Research Team.’ Serge was a tall, slender man. He had short blond hair with a receding hair line. He wore black framed glasses, a white lab coat, a light blue button up shirt, and black pants. He sighed in the darkness. He wished he could have seen it coming.

After the fossilized virus was discovered, members of the team started to become ill. First it was just Leanne Petroski, but then Doug, Borris and even Marie came down with it.

‘Leanne was the first to change though; she stumbled into the lab one morning, half awake. I told her to go home, and she looked up at me.’ Serge shuttered, ‘I’d never seen something so terrifying in my life.’

‘Her eyes, they were pure red, filled to the brim with blood. After the initial scare of seeing her like that my senses returned. I tried to get her to sit down and she started thrashing, she threw me into a door and started to run at me, in the panic I ran inside and triggered the emergency locking mechanism, which locked her out.

‘Through the tiny pane of bullet-proof glass on the door I could see the chaos that ensued inside the lab. I was only saved because of this damn airtight, bullet-proof, sterile prison of a room. I almost wished I had died.’ Serge shook his head, ‘Don’t say that, you’re glad to be alive, and you’ll find a way out of here too.’

It was unlikely though, when he had triggered the emergency lock, it locked him in. It was meant to be used to contain any kind of hazard inside, not keep them out. Someone would have to activate the release mechanism, and that was the problem. There was no one alive - Well, uninfected - outside the room to do it.

Serge had been trapped there for God-knows-how-long. Luckily though, whoever used this area had a stash of food under their desk, but that would only last so long. And when the power went out a part of Serge felt as though he was just delaying the inevitable.

He lay down to try and gets some sleep when from the hallway he heard a strange noise. He was startled; he was so used to hearing nothing that it hurt his ears. He got up to see lights waiving passed the thin window in the door. A glimmer of hope flashed to life then spread like a wildfire until Serge could feel his soul burning inside him again.

He ran to the door and slammed his face to the window. What he saw made him want to cry out in joy. It was a squad of soldiers, in full gasmasks and Kevlar, equipped with rifles. They searched the darkness, and just as Serge was about to cry out to them something moved in the darkness. All their lights focused in that direction, they revealed a group of infected lab techs. Serge was horrified; he hadn’t seen an infected individual that badly mutilated before. He’d only seen the early stages, once the power went out, they were hidden in the darkness. The infected made the first move, charging the squad. They got to the first one before they could even fire off a round. The soldier was overwhelmed, he collapsed, being pummeled and bitten to death by a group of psychos.

Finally the other soldiers started firing, a few of the infected dropped to the floor but the others charged full force. The squad of four was quickly reduced to one desperate man. He fired hastily until his rifle ran empty, he cursed and threw it down right as the last two infected rushed him. He was able to draw his pistol right as they got to him, they jumped on him. They fell against the door, out of Serge’s view. The noise was ungodly, moans and the sound bodies colliding. Finally two shots rang out, Serge stood at the door, stunned. He felt his soul extinguish again.

The soldier stood flimsily, holding his shoulder. Serge’s soul was burning brighter than before; he knocked hastily at the door. The soldier was startled, instantly turning and aiming his weapon at the door.

“It’s alright! I’m not infected; I’ve been trapped in here!” He screamed through the door.

The soldier was struggling to stand. He braced himself against the door and grabbed the release lever to the door. He began to pull, but he couldn’t summon the strength. He collapsed to the floor, and began to convulse. Serge recognized his behavior, it was the beginning stages of infection, in a moment the soldier would be just another infected roaming the darkness.

Serge turned away from the door and slid down against the wall. There was no way he was going to get out now. The only people he’d seen since this whole thing started were just slaughtered right in front of his face. He was just wishing for death to take him at this point. There was no reason to live any longer. What were the odds that they’d send another squad down?

Suddenly he heard a moan, then the sound of flesh against metal. Serge cautiously stood up, peering through the glass. The infected soldier was now standing at the door slamming his entire body against it. There was no chance he would breach it, as much as Serge was hoping for it at this point. Serge stared for a few moments then turned away. He walked to the other end of the room and sat against the wall and closed his eyes. It was near impossible to get sleep in the first place, but now that the soldier was persistently slamming his face against the door it was going to be impossible to even imagine sleeping.

What seemed like years passed as Serge leaned against the wall. He began to uncontrollably shake. He was going mad. He stood up and started slamming himself against the cold metal walls. He sobbed inanely and cried out, his face finally impacted hard enough to knock him unconscious, he fell back onto the tile floor as blood trickled from his nose.

Serge’s vision went from pitch black to blurry amebas. It finally focused again and the world seemed to stop spinning. He sat up, slightly oblivious to what he had done. He looked down and noticed a small pool of his own blood surrounding him. He figured he’d probably broken his own nose. He took off his lab coat and rubbed it against his nose. He winced in pain, ‘What the hell was I thinking?’ He wondered to himself.

Then he came to the realization that it was quiet again. He could not longer hear the sound of the infected soldier banging on the door. He cautiously stood up and moved to the door. He looked out to see that the area around the door was empty again, except for the dead soldiers and infected. He sighed, slightly relieved but also slightly distraught. His stomach growled up at him. He put his hand up to it and walked toward the desk.

He kneeled down and opened a drawer. Inside were a few empty bags of chips and a box of snack bars. There were also several bottles of water, both opened and unopened. He grabbed a granola bar and ripped the wrapper off. He sunk his teeth into it eagerly. For a moment he felt almost happy, but the pure ecstasy that was the granola bar ended abruptly when all that was left in his hand was a tiny crumb. He grabbed a bottle of water and twisted the top. It released a plastic crackle as the seal around the cap broke. He gulped it down for a couple seconds and then sat back, exhaling.

Serge decided that he needed something to occupy his mind. He grabbed a pen and piece of paper from inside the desk. He held the pen in his hand, it felt awkward and unwieldy. He touched it to the paper and began trying to write, ‘she sels see shell by te sea sore.’ His hand began to cramp. He scowled, furious. He squeezed the pen and tried again, ‘She sales sea sheles by the sea shore.’ He screamed, “Fucking hell! Why can’t I do this!?”

He threw the pen against the wall and crumpled the paper up. He couldn’t contain his rage, he shrieked, standing up quickly. He flailed his arms before picking up the chair and smashing it against the wall. The leg of the wooden chair rebounded off the wall, colliding with his nose. The blood began flow from his nostrils like a faucet. He yelled in pain and began to beat at the wall, his blood, saliva and tears running down his face and onto his clothes.

Suddenly, from behind him came a knocking at the door, Serge whirled around quickly. His senses came to him; he wiped his face and walked slowly toward the door. He couldn’t see the window, or what was on the other side of it yet. The knocking grew louder and then a voice broke through the air, “Is anyone in there?!”

Serge was almost frightened by the voice. He rushed to the door and looked through the glass. Another squad of soldiers stood staring at him through their masks. “Hey! Open up, we’ll get you out of here!” One of them shouted.

“The lock is out there! I’m trapped in here!” Serge yelled to them.

The soldier looked around for a second before noticing the handle. He pulled it and the hiss of compressed air confirmed that the door was indeed unlocked. The soldier pushed the door open and stood before Serge. “I’m Corporal Merethil, I was sent to recover any survivors.” He stared at the bloody man before him, “Uh, what’s your name?”

Serge was caught of guard; conversation had become a strange thing to him. “I-I’m… Serge, Serge Fitz Gilbert.” He said softly, “Is it… Is it safe out there?”

Corporal Merethil nodded at him, “It’s safe. We had quite the clean up job on our hands, but it looks like everything has turned out okay.” He motioned toward the door and his fellow squad members. “C’mon, it’s about time you got back up to the surface.”

He put his arm around Serge and led him out of the room. Serge became increasingly nervous. He hadn’t seen the rest of the lab in ages. It was torn to pieces, bodies lying everywhere. He began to sweat. He clutched his hands tightly at his side. They turned a corner which Serge recognized as the staircase to the outside. The outside. Serge began shaking uncontrollably. “No…” He said under his breath, trying to break free of the Corporal. “No!”

The leader of the squad held on tight, “Don’t worry, it’s safe. It’s safe.” He said, trying to calm Serge. He calmed for a moment, but just as they passed through the threshold from the darkness into the light Serge couldn’t take it anymore. He cried out, temporarily blinded by the sun, he used all his strength to break free. His hand found the holster on the Corporal’s waist. He pulled out the Glock 17 screaming, “It’s not fucking safe out here! It’ll never be safe!” He pointed the gun at Corporal Merethil, “You’re trying to get me fucking killed!”

The soldier raised his hands, and the rest of the squad turned, raising their guns at Serge. “Wait! Wait! Don’t shoot him!” Yelled the leader, “Serge, come on, put the gun down, its fine!”

“No! Don’t fucking tell me what to do! You’re going to get me killed! You’ll kill us all!” Serge screamed, slobber jumping from his mouth. His face was contorted with pure anger and fear.

“Just put the-” Serge fired a shot straight into the Corporal’s face. He let out a groan as he fell limply to the floor, his blood spraying onto his comrades who were taken by surprise.

Serge hastily fired 7 more shots; three found their mark in the chest of one of the soldiers, the next two stuck another. The last two bullets struck the final soldier, once in the arm and knee. The soldier was quick to fire back, but Serge shot at almost the same time, striking the soldier in the neck, the soldier gargled and fell. His shots were not in vein, one ripped through Serge’s right arm and the other struck him in the stomach. Serge stumbled backward and tripped down the staircase. He slammed into the floor at the bottom and he felt his wrist snap. He shrieked in pain before climbing to his feet. He ran back to the door where it had all began and pulled the lever triggering the emergency lock mechanism. He collapsed into the room as the door closed behind him. The door hissed again, its airtight seal coming back into effect.

Serge let out long, heaving breathes. He pulled himself to the wall, blood smearing on the ground behind him. He propped himself up against it. ‘I can’t… I can’t… I can’t…’ He said over and over in his mind. His breathing pace increased. The blood trickled from his wounds in what seemed like a never ending stream. But he knew it was coming to an end, and it was growing closer every moment. The pain pulsated through his body and he cried out. He closed his eyes and his breathing slowed, then stopped.


‘I… can’t…’

Dangar^

Paragraphs.

Use Them.

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Dasutin

There were paragraphs before I posted here. I'm not a fan of putting gigantic spaces between them, but if that's what you want, I'll get it.

Done, done and done.

MowsysWrath

Enjoyable. But as Tim's arguments stand, I'm pretty sure highly trained soldiers would've taken Serge out. Not to mention a Corporal would be stronger than a scientist, even if he used all his strength. And the moment Serge aimed at Merethil, the other soldiers would've taken him down.

Otherwise, excellent!

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MyNameDidntFit

Wow, I have to say this is definitely one of my favourites so far. Your descriptions of Serge's mental state is brilliant and the plot is good, especially considering how little there actually is.

A most excellent read!


Balls.

Grow some.

Adrenaline can make people far stronger than any normal man easily allowing the scientist to break free. And, well, the soldiers are people too, they wouldn't just shoot the guy when there was a chance of talking him out of doing anything bad.

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Leroy

Not bad.

MowsysWrath

Would the soldiers not have some adrenaline as well? And would they not have been trained to deal with adrenaline-fueled subjects? Even with adrenaline, I'm pretty sure a soldier would have far superior strength and handling.

Regardless, once Serge shot the corporal, I'm pretty sure the other soldiers would've had the reaction time and accuracy to take him down before he had time to shoot the rest.

I'm not saying the story's bad, it's good (And I'm going to have to enter another one to try and beat it) I'm just saying it probably would've ended a different way.

And another thing, how long was he in the room? I'm not exactly sure how long it would take to go insane but... I'd think it would take a week or two at the least.

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MyNameDidntFit

This bit I agree with.

As for the adrenaline; crazy people can be incredibly strong and I doubt that a soldier would be expecting the scientist to suddenly go for his gun.

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Dasutin

Wow! Thanks for all the replies everyone. I'm glad you enjoyed my story, I sure enjoyed writing it.

I'll leave that up to you, I didn't specify for a reason.

Cheshire

I liked how the zombies where a very minimal part of the story and it was more like a study on cabin fever. And if none of you have considered this, he had access to a few bottles of water and some power bars/chips. A normal person can live without food for about 3 weeks, without water, less than a week. Given he wasn't moving around much water loss isn't a big factor. In my opinion he was down there for around 2-3 weeks if he was also drinking his piss.

AzH

What does piss taste like?

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Cheshire

Yer mum.

No it's actually quite bitter I've heard.

MyNameDidntFit

Oh good, you're Australian


I'd imagine it would depend on what you'd been drinking? More water would equal less taste as the urea and stuff would be less concentrated

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Leroy

Why would you want to drink that kind of stuff?

MyNameDidntFit

No-one would want to but if you have the options:

A: Drink your urine.

or

B: Die.

What would you choose?

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Cheshire

He would not last in a post apocalypse world.

AzH

I'd choose death. It's a simple case of perspective.

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Cheshire

Each to his own I suppose, but stubborness seems to be a silly thing to die over.

AzH

Well, philosophy is key here. When I'm dead I'm dead and the actions/activity which occurred prior to the extinguishing of life are entirely irrelevant. Once dead one cares not.

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Cheshire

Philosophy aside death by dehydration is rather unpleasent.