VITALIZE: A Zombie Novella (PREVIEW)

Ch. 1 - Rebirth Part 1 - Dr. Harold Seville

A sudden flash lit the pale green walls of the room as Dr. Seville scribbled frantic notes on his clipboard. Crashing thunder rocked through the small surgery room, momentarily drowning out the flat-lining heart monitor and humming generators. He stepped back, looking up to meet the nurse's eyes, as she approached from his periphery. Melissa nodded as she passed, directing the small crowd of volunteers.

"The stitching on his leg is wearing loose. Cathy, tighten that up for me," she urged, as she moved in with her blood pack and hung it on the rust-pocked chrome hanger. "Dr. Seville?"

He checked over the notes again. Male, 6ft, 220lbs, little muscle deterioration. Estimated time since infection: 12-14 weeks. "Bring me 50cc's of the serum."

The rain pattered heavily against the window as another flash illuminated a city consumed in darkness.  His tired reflection stared back at him from the glass. It had only been five years, yet his reflection seemed to have aged a lifetime, his wrinkles becoming fissures in such a short time. His once pristine white coat, faded and yellow from neglect, spattered in the brown blood stains of patients from years gone by.

He glanced at the Infected, studying it as it strained against the straps holding its arms and legs in place, desperately trying to satisfy its hunger for flesh. The patient appears more... vigorous than the others, to receive the latest formula. The few men and women on his team were intimately familiar with the process now, though only Melissa had been on his original staff. The others had all given up at some point along the way.

The painted walls were a patchwork of notes and Polaroid photographs of the Infected that had all been brought here before. Men. Women. Children. Freshly Infected or nothing more than rotting husks. They had all left the same. Still a corpse, and still, as a corpse should be. He remembered them all. Every case. His many failed attempts. So many hours spent, lives risked, and resources wasted.

Humanity was worth the price.

The Infected moaned in complaint, drawing his attention to the hospital gurney where it pulled at its restraints, desperate to taste the sweet succulent flesh of the frantic humans around it.

"You can't keep bringin' them things up through 'ere, Doc," said the brute, looming in the shadowed doorframe. He held a rusty machete casually against his muscular shoulder as he eyed the monster wearily. "I know what you're doin', but you gonna get someone killed up here. Or worse, Turned. It's gotta work this time."

Dr. Seville gave him a frustrated glance, "You know this has got about as much chance as every goddamn other attempt, Marshall."

Administering the next iteration of the cure while the rest of the survivors slept wasn't ideal, but isolating a single Infected close to the hospital was a rare opportunity that he couldn't pass up. Striding across the room, he checked the stitching on the Infected's blood encrusted neck. It snapped its jaws, straining to reach him but Dr. Seville's hand remained steady. He'd done this too many times to be scared of the monster. He scanned his eyes across the monster and grimaced. Its entire body was covered in stitches and bandages, roughly sewn and wrapped by unpractised hands.

"We can only run the tests on real subjects."

"Well, the petrol ain't gonna last forever, Doc," Marshall countered. "You done this countless times and it always ends the same. You're gonna have to start thinkin' 'bout what's really important." He nodded to the monster. "This little freak show in here or saving the petrol for when the cold comes in."

Dr. Seville glared up at the brute. Everyone stopped their work, bringing a tense stillness to the small surgery room. He held Marshall's icy blue glare. "Get out."