My Fiction Fix #01

Writing Idea #71: The Virus

The Virus

CHAPTER 1

I run my fingers over corded muscles, "Just relax soldier, it's only a blood sample." I murmur to him, silver eyes stare up at me, other doctors, or well—scientists couldn't quite get the programme to stay calm during procedures when I could.

He doesn't react so negatively as I remove just a simple vial before I tag it. Four other of his men and one woman in the room had sat at the side to watch while I attach the vial to a machine that only needed a drop of it to read into his white blood count after they'd been on another mission.

I stare at the results like an author would her favourite book, separating the plasma as the machine does it all for me, I grab a set of documents, "Alright, each of you. Your task before curfew will be to draw me something. Anything, just draw the first thing that comes to mind. Whether it's something you want, whether it's your name, what you stand for, even a logo, just draw." I tell them, handing each one a pencil and the paperwork.

Each soldier had a designated number, I was staring at Agents 18, 24, 9, 11 and Zero. Agent Zero had his silver eyes on me for a long moment, I point to the page and he stares at me for a moment longer, before he's drawing something too.

I moved to my laptop in the opposite, the phone rings and I answer it, "Doctor Leroy here, what can I do for you?" I answer with, it wasn't my real name, but every scientist who past the initial tests to get into the institute had to undertake names of difference.

"We have a case downstairs, three other doctors are in, but I'm afraid we're going to need your analysis on the soldier, Leroy." I overhear one of the generals tell me.

"I'm in the middle of something, just run an analysis on the patient. The doctors there will follow procedure." I answer with, my eyes on the screen, I click through files, making certain names and dates aligned. Agent Zero's file pops up and I squint at the screen when I check his physical and find notes on brain activity and potential pleasured dreams. Just what on earth was happening here? I check the notes on his therapists quotation, based on what he's said, he's only experiencing a spike in hormonal changes, which dictated his thoughts and dreams.

"It's urgent." The general says.

"I'll be down in fifteen, you'll have to hold until then." I mutter, closing the white wall phone back in its place. I take a breath before typing in a potential brain activity analysis needed on the agents in this room.

"We're finished, Doc." Agent 9 murmurs behind me, I turn to face her and grasp the drawings she's holding. I thank her gently, moving towards the whiteboard, I pin each drawing up and in line before using a marker to write their numbers above each.

I write agent Zero's and stare at the drawing he has of my face, my hair, my eyes, nose, freckles. He's significantly detailed. Worries me a little. Does he truly stare at my face long enough to understand the details and structure, features and...how he looks at me?

The others drew a range of things, house, people, birds, trees. One drew a family and I knew that was Agent 11 because his brain activity portrays images of a faceless woman and a child.

I step back and close the lid on the pen, "Alright, good enough. Each of you return to your quarters, clean up before this evening's dinner." I tell them, checking my watch.

"Why did we have to draw things?" Agent 9 asks me while they all stand slowly. All of the men in the room were ranging between six foot two and six foot six. Agent 9 had short ginger locks that brushed her shoulders, muscular as she was, she did have curves, I'd analysed many who thought she was a beautiful agent, but alas, they all were made in labs flashier than this. Her genetic make-up, in fact all of their genetic make-up described perfection.