The Last Bastion of the Living

Page 17

Without a word, Mr. Petersen turned and left the room.
“We’re ready,” a male technician informed Dr. Curran.
“Very well. Clear the room,” Dr. Curran ordered. She leaned over Maria, her expression suddenly far from cold and remote. There was concern and warmth in her eyes. “Don’t be afraid.” After giving her hand a light squeeze, the doctor followed her team out of the room.
Alone, lying on the table, staring up at the robotic arms, Maria felt dread wash over her. She clenched her teeth together, fighting her fear.
One of the monitors began to beep faster and she realized it was her heart rate. Ashamed of feeling so afraid, she closed her eyes and took several deep breaths while she waited for the doctor to return to administer the vaccine.
Instead, the robotic arms above her came to life, uncurling from the ceiling. The hum of their rotors compelled her to open her eyes and she gasped as one of the mechanical hands lightly pressed on her chest. Abruptly, clamps slid up out of the table, encircled her ankles, wrists, elbows and knees, and locked. Unable to move, Maria started to hyperventilate. Despite all her attempts to push away her misgivings and fears, she was utterly terrified and convinced she had made the wrong choice.
“Dr. Curran!” she called out as she watched one of the robotic hands tap a code into a stainless steel refrigeration unit marked ‘Biohazard.’ “Dr. Curran!”
“Please remain calm,” the inhuman voice of the machine commanded her.
“Dr. Curran! Why are you restraining me? What is going on?” Maria demanded.
“Please remain still and do not struggle,” the machine answered.
The refrigeration unit hissed open.
“Dr. Curran, please, talk to me. I don’t understand why you’re restraining me. What are you doing to me?” Maria twisted her hands, struggling to get free, but the clamps only tightened. She could hear the heart monitor’s beeps accelerating.
The robotic arms continued their task, the whirring of their movements adding to her terror. This didn’t feel right. Something was terribly wrong and in that moment she was absolutely certain she had been lied to.
One of the robotic arms withdrew a syringe with a very long needle from the refrigeration unit and swiveled toward her.
“Modified ISPV is ready to be administered,” the robotic voice droned.
“You may proceed,” said a male voice Maria didn’t recognize.
Straining to break free, Maria watched the syringe in horror as it was poised over her torso. One of the other arms moved, and a metallic hand pushed down her head, then turned it to one side. Out of the corner of her eye, Maria saw another arm with a different needle descending toward her. Her eyes sought out the one identified as the modified Inferi Scourge Plague Virus. It hovered just out of sight, waiting.
“Please don’t,” she gasped.
The second needle plunged into her chest, just below her right breast, sliding between two of her ribs. She screamed as it burrowed deep within her. Liquid fire spread through her body. Gagging, she arched her back as the burning pain filled her. It was unbearable. Maria felt as if her body was being consumed.
The heart monitor’s beeps were racing.
The arm holding the modified Inferi Scourge Plague Virus moved into position over her.
“Please don’t,” Maria whimpered.
The heart monitor suddenly went silent as the world turned black and cold.
* * *
The world was full of icy darkness. Maria struggled to move and gather her bed covers over her, but she found she couldn’t move. She was restrained, and her mind wondered if Dwayne had her pinned with his arm and leg like he sometimes did as he slept.
Trying to say his name, she found she couldn’t speak, couldn’t find her voice. Her mouth was dry and her tongue felt heavy and coated.
Struggling to open her eyes, Maria again tried to move. This time she could feel something warm and heavy pressing down on her wrists.
“Dwayne,” she whispered, “get off me.”
“Did she say something?” a familiar male voice asked.
“Vanguard Martinez, wake up.” It was Dr. Curran.
Eyelids fluttering, Maria tried to pull herself up out of the darkness. It was so cold it hurt and she struggled to draw a breath.
“Open your eyes, Vanguard Martinez. You can do it.”
Shapes swam above her. Dark forms hovered beneath an ocean of white. Pain pulsated behind her eyes, then faded as her vision slowly cleared.
Dr. Curran leaned over her with Mr. Petersen at her side. “Vanguard,” Mr. Petersen said in a short tone, “identify yourself.”
Maria tried to swallow, but her throat felt painfully dry. “Vanguard Maria Martinez,” she answered groggily.
“Well, she can speak,” Mr. Petersen said.
“They could all speak,” Dr. Curran answered in a terse voice. “Maria, please look at me.”
It was hard to focus. Her brain felt muddled and her thoughts were like fleeing ghosts. It was hard to concentrate.
“Maria, look at me,” Dr. Curran ordered again.
Maria finally rested her gaze directly on Dr. Curran, but it was Dwayne that filled her mind’s eye. She missed him with all her soul and couldn’t understand why he wasn’t here with her.
“Where am I?” she rasped, confusion still snatching coherent thoughts away from her. Images of the last few days flashed through her mind, but avoided being strung into a cohesive narrative.
“You’re in the SWD facility. You volunteered for a special mission to fight the Inferi Scourge. Do you remember?” Dr. Curran asked.
Like puzzle pieces snapping together, her memories began to interlock, completing the picture. “Did it work? Am I immune now?”
A whisper of a smile touched the doctor’s face and she slightly nodded. “We believe so. We just need to complete a few more tests.”
Pulling on the restraints, Maria struggled to stretch her body. Though she was certain she was now completely awake, her body felt strangely remote. She could feel her limbs straining against the restraints, but felt disconnected from the action.
“Please, let me up,” Maria gasped.
“We can’t do that yet,” Mr. Petersen answered.
“I feel…odd,” Maria complained, blinking her eyes against the harsh light, her voice scratchy. The robotic arms began to move over her and she gasped. “Please! No more shots.”
“We just need to do a few tests,” Dr. Curran assured her.
With the delicate touch of a well-trained nurse, the robotic hands took skin samples, hair, blood, and a swab from the inside of her cheek. Maria shivered at their touch, trying to shirk away from them, the memory of the painful needle too fresh in her mind.
“It burned,” Maria whimpered.
“What did?” Mr. Petersen asked.
“The first shot. It burned. It hurt so bad I thought I was dying.” It was hard to speak above a whisper.
Mr. Petersen smirked.
“You don’t believe me?”
“Oh, I believe you.”
“How do you feel?” Dr. Curran asked, turning her gaze away from a screen to study Maria’s expression.
“Numb. Like my nerve endings are shorting out or something. I don’t feel like I’m really connected to my body yet. When does it wear off?”
“It doesn’t,” Mr. Petersen said with a slight shrug. “Get used to it.”
“Would you mind not speaking to my patient right now? I don’t need you upsetting her,” Dr. Curran said sharply. “In fact, I suggest you leave the room.”
“You know I am under orders to observe, Dr. Curran.”
“You can watch the proceedings with the others.”
“I am fine here.”
“I insist,” Dr. Curran asserted. “In fact, let me escort you. I need a word with you. Now.”
Maria could hear the two people march from the room and the door slide shut behind them. Pulling on her restraints again, her anger began to get the best of her.
“Could someone please let me go?” Turning her head, she tried to look around the room. No other technicians or doctors appeared to be in the room with her. “Dammit.”
Relaxing her arms, she closed her hands into tight fists. The action felt remote and odd. Curious, she slowly dug her fingernails into her palms. She could feel the pressure, but not the sharp slice of a fingernail against skin. She pushed the tips of her fingers into her flesh even harder, but still felt nothing but the steady pressure.
The room was strangely silent and it wore on her nerves.
“Hello? Dr. Curran?”
She flexed her toes and wiggled her fingers. Something wasn’t right.
The silence tormented her.
It had been so loud in the room before that horrible needle had sliced into her chest. At least she wasn’t in pain from that part of the procedure.
The terrible taste in her mouth was not going away and she kept struggling to swallow.
The room was so quiet. The robotic arms were withdrawn into the ceiling and the monitors weren’t even beeping.
Maria’s eyes widened as the implications of the silence became clear to her. Turning her head, she strained to see the monitoring screens on the equipment. A few were still showing data, but one was ominously silent, a straight line cutting across its width.