Mutated System : Rise Of The Alpha

"Take a seat, Nathan," Dr. Richard said, his voice dropping an octave as he slid a thin manila folder across the mahogany desk. He didn't look up immediately; he just kept staring at the MRI scans pinned to the lightboard.

Nathan sat, his posture rigid. "Just give it to me straight, Doc. No medical jargon. No sugar-coating."

Richard finally turned, his expression weary. "It’s not good. The tumor has metastasized significantly since the last scan. We’re looking at Stage Four, Nathan. Glioblastoma. It’s aggressive, and it’s deep."

The silence in the room felt heavy, almost physical. Nathan let out a short, dry laugh. "Stage four. So, what? I’m a walking corpse now?"

"You're still here," Richard countered firmly, leaning forward. "But we need to move fast. If we start a combination of aggressive radiation and a new chemotherapy cycle immediately, we might be able to slow the spread. It’s a slim margin, but it’s a chance."

"A chance for what? Three more months of puking my guts out and forgetting my own name?"

"A chance to fight for more time," Richard said, his tone softened with a pity that Nathan absolutely loathed. He pulled out a prescription pad and scribbled something down with a sharp, scratching sound. "I’m prescribing a high-dose steroid to manage the brain swelling and some potent analgesics for the migraines. You'll need them."

He ripped the slip of paper off and handed it to Nathan.

"Take this. Go down to the ground floor and wait in front of the pharmacy. It’ll take them about twenty minutes to prepare the mixture. While you're waiting, I want you to think seriously about the inpatient program. We don't have the luxury of time, Nathan."

Nathan took the paper, his fingers brushing against the doctor’s. He didn't say thank you. He just folded the prescription, tucked it into his pocket, and walked out without looking back.

Nathan sat in the plastic chair, the crumpled prescription in his hand, when the rhythmic ticking of the wall clock was drowned out by the frantic squeal of rubber against linoleum.

"Clear the hall! Out of the way! Move, move, move!" an orderly barked, his voice cracking with pure adrenaline.

At the far end of the hallway, four orderlies were sprinting, barely able to keep the gurney steady. On top of it, a patient was thrashing with terrifying violence. The man’s skin was a sickly, bruised grey, and despite the heavy leather restraints cinched tight across his chest, his body convulsed with a strength that seemed to defy physics.

"He’s breaking the straps! Get the sedative, now!" one of the nurses screamed, her eyes wide with terror.

The patient didn't scream back. He made a wet, rattling sound deep in his throat—a sound that didn't belong to anything living.

"I can't hold him! His arm—"

*POP.*

With the sickening sound of a dislocated joint, the patient’s right arm wrenched free from the restraint. The grey hand shot out like a viper, clawing at the neck of the nearest orderly.

"Get off me! Someone help—AGHH!"

The orderly’s plea was cut short as the patient lunged upward, sinking his teeth into the man's throat with a wet, tearing crunch. Blood sprayed across the white walls in a jagged arc.

"Holy shit! He’s eating him! Run!" a woman in the waiting area shrieked.

"What the fuck is happening?! Call security!"

Panic ignited like a wildfire. Visitors scrambled, knocking over chairs and trampling one another.

"Don't just stand there, Nathan! Get the hell out of here!" a passing nurse yelled, grabbing his shoulder for a split second before disappearing into the crowd.

Nathan didn't move. He just watched the orderly collapse, clutching his shredded neck as the patient continued to gnash his teeth, eyes rolled back into a lifeless white.

Then, a thunderous roar of an engine echoed from the entrance.

*SCREECH—CRASH!*

The floor beneath Nathan’s feet shook as a massive ambulance shattered the glass facade of the main lobby, plowing through the entrance at full speed before slamming into a massive concrete pillar.

"What the fuck... the lobby! It’s gone!" a man near the pharmacy yelled, his voice trembling. "Everyone out! Get to the back stairs!"

Steam and black smoke hissed from the crumpled wreckage of the ambulance. For a second, there was a deafening silence. Then, a heavy thud came from inside the vehicle. *Thump. Thump.*

The back doors of the ambulance burst open from the inside.

"What is that?" someone whispered, frozen in place. "What the hell are those things?"

As more screams erupted from the lobby, Nathan stood there in the center of the storm, the prescription still crumpled in his hand. He watched the blood-soaked reality unfold, the shadows of the apocalypse beginning to swallow the hospital whole.