The Only

Chapter Eight - Karl

Karl folded his body onto the table. The spurt of energy he'd shown talking about Alex's autopsy depleted all reserves. He barely mustered up the strength to support his head with his hands, and his eyelids continued to flutter with failed attempts to stay open. But there was no time to rest. There were still too many questions about how these beings lived. Hunger? The need for white blood cells made them hungry? Were any of them hungry now? What about the kid?

He didn't get a good look at the little guy. From how Neima acted, it was as if the child would suddenly awaken and eat him or Finley alive. He groaned.

The pounding of his head was so strong he felt the vein in his temple violently pulse. It was an unwelcome, relentless drumming. The headache was here to stay. Karl was never sick. Never had a cough or a cold. That was a difficult task working in a hospital. But his strict protocols saved him from germs and bacteria. Sure, the others in the hospital laughed at his constant vigilance, but they were all ignorant of the danger.

A cool hand clasped his arm.

"Come, Karl," Neima said. "Let me show you the lab."

Did she say lab?

Shuffling across the marble floor, Karl followed Neima toward some hidden stairs. Feeling his way against the wall, he felt the passageway get more and more narrow. A coolness reached his face first, and he shivered as it reached his shoulders. The cold air had a refreshing effect on his head, and the incessant pounding in his temple reduced in intensity.

The tight stairwell kept going and going, down into the earth. At the bottom of the narrow flight, the room opened to an expansive space and was surprisingly bright. A large picture window, overlooking the expansive grounds, took up most of the far wall. The room seemed to be the same size as the great hall. In fact, it seemed to be directly below it but high enough to be above ground.

If Karl's head were clearer, he would have pondered the extraordinary feat of architecture.

It was a fine lab. The walls were lined with the latest equipment; even a CT scan took up a corner of the room. It was an unusual addition, unless someone else fell ill, but very useful in obtaining clear pictures of the progression of the virus. Most of it was the same equipment in the lab at Neima's house in Carmel. She was a very sensible woman to have had everything transferred here. Karl was beginning to like Neima more and more.

"I hope you find everything you will need here," she said, taking a turn around the room. "You should be comfortable. You're far enough away so as not to tempt the young ones."

"Right." Karl, invigorated by the cool air and the thought of new equipment, surveyed the room. "From what I've heard they are hungry for white blood cells. That could be a problem."

Neima took a seat on one of the stools. "Explain."

Karl stopped his inspection, satisfied at the completeness of the laboratory. "As you know, white blood cells fight infection in humans, but this virus seems to overproduce them. Alex's white cells were large in number but malformed and immature. It would be safe to surmise that unhealthy white blood cells, when ingested, could cause more harm than good."

Karl tapped his fingers together in anticipation. As soon as he got the opportunity to test everyone, he would know more. And there was so much to know that wasn't available in any textbook or case study. This was tried and true research that he would need to conduct. But was there enough time?

He hated to admit that his intellect alone might not be enough to solve this health crisis. The connection between the virus and Experiments was still very much a mystery. It would take every bit of his superior diagnostic and research skills to understand how the components of the Experiments' blood had mutated into such a lethal human-killing virus. Or did it even mutate? How did it originate?