DEGREES OF DEATH

7. The Bloody Specimen & The Team’s Burden

 

The drop of black saliva felt cold on Daniel’s cheek, carrying a stench of rotting meat and rusted iron that instantly triggered his gag reflex.

A split second before the blistered creature's jaws could clamp down on his face, Daniel's survival instinct took over what was left of his functioning body. Using his left heel as a pivot, he thrust his hips upward and drove his left knee with all his might directly into the mutant’s solar plexus.

Thwump!

The kick wasn't enough to kill, but it was enough to shatter the monster's balance. The creature staggered sideways, its jaw snapping shut with a loud crack, barely missing the collar of Daniel’s shirt.

"Dammit!" Daniel cursed hoarsely.

He scrambled away in a panic. His right shoulder screamed with a blinding pain. His right arm dragged on the floor like a piece of dead meat, completely useless. He was crawling with one arm and both legs, just like a wounded animal.

The creature hissed in fury, repositioning itself to leap again.

Daniel’s eyes darted wildly around the dark corridor. Ten feet to his left was a thick wooden door with a metal plate that read: Integrated Biology Laboratory. The door was slightly ajar.

Without a second thought, Daniel scrambled to his feet and charged the door with his left shoulder. CRACK! He burst into the pitch-black room. He immediately spun around and slammed his body against the door to shut it just as the mutant crashed into it from the outside.

THUD!

The door shuddered violently. Daniel groaned, the pain nearly making him pass out. With his trembling left hand, he fumbled for the doorknob and turned the lock until it clicked. He also dragged a nearby stainless-steel shoe rack to wedge under the handle.

Outside, the creature clawed at the wooden door, hissing wildly, before finally giving up and the sound of it crawling back up to the ceiling faded away.

Daniel collapsed to the laboratory’s tile floor. He was gasping, his chest heaving. Cold sweat drenched his entire body. He looked down at his right arm. The position of his shoulder was unnaturally low. A severe dislocation, or maybe a fractured collarbone.

"Idiot. You're such an idiot, Niel," he cursed himself through clenched teeth. His arrogance, going out to investigate alone, had just been paid for in full.

Once his breathing steadied slightly, Daniel reached into his left pocket and turned on his cracked phone's flashlight again. He aimed the dim light around the room.

The lab was a wreck. Broken test tubes littered the floor, microscopes were overturned, and reports were scattered everywhere. The large glass window at the far end of the room was shattered, letting in the damp night air and streams of rain that splattered across the lab tables.

Daniel forced himself to stand, leaning against a table for support. He needed something to make a splint, or at least a new weapon. But as his flashlight beam swept across the professor's desk in the center of the room, he froze.

On the stainless-steel tabletop sat a thick, polycarbonate cooler, deliberately left open. Inside, nestled in foam, was a cylindrical glass tube about the size of a water bottle.

Daniel narrowed his eyes and stepped closer.

The contents of the tube made the hair on his arms stand on end. It wasn't a chemical. It was an organic tissue, a pulsating mass of reddish-black muscle, submerged in a cloudy preservative fluid. The horrifying part was, the clump of muscle was beating.

The damp air from the broken window washed over the surface of the tube, which had a small crack near the top. Every time the condensation touched the crack, the organic tissue inside twitched aggressively, seeming to swell as if trying to break the glass.

Next to the tube was a transparent folder containing medical documents with a roughly crossed-out government logo. Daniel pulled out the top sheet.

"Subject: Strain Zero Catalyst.

Observation: Cellular tissue shows no signs of necrosis. Rate of cell division increases by 300% when exposed to absolute humidity (H2O >80%). This is not a naturally occurring virus. This is an artificial weapon that responds to weather anomalies."

Daniel’s breath hitched. The theory from the internet forum Chania had read was wrong. The rain wasn't just "accelerating" the mutation. This plague was designed to be controlled by the weather. This campus, or whoever brought this tube here, was involved in something far bigger and more insane than a simple zombie apocalypse.

"This… this was made," Daniel whispered in horror.

A roar from outside the building snapped him back to reality. He didn't have time. If the military was isolating the city like the radio said, then this thing was probably the key—or the evidence, they were looking for.

With his left hand, Daniel grabbed an empty black backpack from a lab chair, stuffed the heavy glass tube and the medical documents inside, and slung the bag over his left shoulder. The weight sent a fresh wave of agony through his right.

He had to get back to Room 2-B.

Daniel pressed his ear against the lab door. Silence. The blistered creature seemed to have crawled off somewhere else. He unlocked the door slowly and peered into the pitch-black corridor. Clear.

Creeping along the wall with one useless arm and fighting through the pain was the worst torture Daniel had ever endured. Every step sent a sharp pulse of agony through his shoulder that threatened to overwhelm him.

When he finally reached Room 2-B, he knocked on the wooden door with a soft, rhythmic pattern. Knock. Knock-knock.

Less than three seconds later, he heard a desk being slid away from inside. The door opened a crack. Chania’s tense face peered out. The moment she saw Daniel’s pale face, she yanked him in by his shirt, slammed the door shut, and locked it again.

"Where the hell have you been, you idiot?!" Chania whispered, her voice a high, strained hiss. Her eyes were wide with a frantic panic. "I woke up and you were gone! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?!"

Bianca, Xavier, and Kimberly, now awake, hurried over.

"Dude, Niel. You look as pale as one of the dead guys," Xavier mumbled, rubbing his eyes. He turned on a small flashlight. "What were you doing out there? Wrestling a bear?"

The beam of Xavier’s flashlight fell on Daniel’s body. Xavier’s laugh died in his throat.

"Oh my God, Daniel, your arm!" Bianca gasped, covering her mouth with her hands.

Chania looked down. Her eyes widened at the sight of Daniel's right arm hanging unnaturally at his side. His shirt was torn, and his shoulder was a swollen, bluish mess, the bone protruding grotesquely from beneath the fabric.

"What happened, Niel?! Were you bitten?!" Chania lunged forward, her trembling hand reaching for his good shoulder.

"Not bitten," Daniel answered hoarsely, leaning weakly against the barricade. His chest rose and fell rapidly. "Ran into a Phase Two… one that crawls on the ceiling. It threw me."

"Are you insane?!" Chania's tears immediately began to fall. Anger, fear, and relief all mixed into one. She hit his left pectoral weakly. "I told you to rest! Why did you go out alone without telling anyone?! You think you're some kind of superhero?!"

"I just wanted to check the corridor, Chan," Daniel mumbled, wincing as she touched the area near his shoulder.

"Check what?!" Chania cut in, her voice shaking as she fought back a sob. "Check how fast you could get yourself killed out there?! If you die, what happens to us, Daniel?!"

Daniel fell silent. He had no defense. His arrogance had just slapped him with a harsh dose of reality.

"Let him sit down, Chan. He's in a lot of pain," Alex interjected from the corner, looking at Daniel with pity.

Chania wiped her tears away roughly. Her panic shifted into survival mode. She turned and rummaged through the professor's desk drawer, pulling out the white first-aid kit they had found earlier.

"Sit on the floor," she commanded without meeting his eyes. Her voice was cold, the way someone’s gets when they're trying desperately to mask their fear.

Daniel slowly lowered himself to the tile floor. He placed the black backpack containing the specimen in his lap, guarding it tightly with his left hand.

"Take his shirt off, slowly," Chania instructed. Xavier stepped forward to help Daniel ease out of his wet shirt. Daniel clenched his jaw, biting his lower lip until it bled to keep from screaming as the fabric passed over his dislocated shoulder.

"His collarbone isn't broken through the skin, but the dislocation is severe," Chania murmured. She worked in silence, her movements deft and efficient. She used a thin wooden ruler from the drawer and a roll of thick gauze to create a makeshift splint.

Every time Chania pulled the bandage tight to immobilize the joint, the muscles in Daniel's face twitched against the pain that felt like an electric shock to his brain. But he didn't let out a single groan. He watched her face, focused as she wrapped his arm. She was crying silently, her tears falling onto the back of his hand.

"Sorry," Daniel finally whispered, his voice raw.

Chania didn't respond. She tied the final knot in the bandage, ensuring his right arm was locked securely across his chest in a sling. The wrap was thick, clumsy, and a permanent reminder of his recklessness.

When she was finished, Chania stood up. She packed away the remaining medical supplies, shut the first-aid kit with a hard snap, and walked away to the corner of the room without another word. She sat with her back to him, hugging her knees.

The room fell silent again. Xavier and Bianca exchanged an awkward glance, then returned to their sleeping spots, giving Daniel space.

Daniel sat rigidly on the dark floor. The rain outside continued its relentless assault on the windowpanes, as if laughing at his shattered pride. He looked down at the thick bandage on his arm.

With great effort, he tried to send a command from his brain to his right hand, telling his fingers to make a fist.

Nothing. There was only an excruciating, bone-deep pain, while his fingers remained completely unresponsive. His right hand was, for now, completely useless.

The hand he used to swing his teak club. The hand he relied on to protect this group. The hand he had promised, just hours ago, would no longer hesitate to kill monsters.

Daniel hugged the black backpack in his lap with his one good arm. His secret, the horrifying specimen that was the key to this apocalypse, felt heavy and cold against his chest.

He looked up, first at the barricaded door, then at his friends sleeping fitfully in their fear.

A cold, dark guilt crept up his throat. Daniel realized a bitter truth that night. He could no longer wield his primary weapon. He could no longer be on the front line. As of dawn tomorrow, the leader who had always been the tip of the spear, the protector, had officially become the group's heaviest burden.