"We need you to operate and experiment on patients numbers 238 to 254, excluding patient 247," the newly elected Prime Minister, Otis Kingston, informed the line of scientists and doctors lined up in front of the peeling hospital doors. "They're in the room to the left of you. Now scram."
The thirty doctors and scientists flooded into the contaminated room, their mouths and noses covered. The disease that had recently been named as Hoptalitius has become the most contagious disease throughout Britain since the year 2044. It's now 2047.
Doctors wielded syringes, clipboard and scalpels as they flustered around the room containing the fifteen patients. Scientists poured acidic chemicals from comical flasks whilst scribbling down formulas and recording results. Patients lay unconscious on their clean, fresh hospital beds, their stomachs being cut open by the operating tools used by the doctors.
Doctors have been trying to find a cure for the disastrous outbreak that has managed to kill almost three quarters of all sufferers and a fifth of all of Britain, but nothing has been solved yet. The epidemic is still around, slowly but surely destroying the victims it captures.
A bunch of scientists sat at the back of the room, chemicals, equipment and notes spilling over the table they sat at were mixing a bunch of aqueous chemicals, trying to create the right liquid.
A purple gas cloud rose from the large beaker they had filled with various substances. The stench was horrific, making the conscious people in the room wretch and gag.
An explosion was witnessed from another corner of the room, the jade green liquid dripping off of the desk. The desk had caught fire, the wood and liquid causing carbon monoxide to fill the lungs of everyone.
The room began to fill with fire, purple gas and blood from the patients where the doctors had cut them wrong in surprise. Another explosion was heard, but now seen through the fog. The scientists and doctors, who were on the verge of fainting, tried to make their way to the entrance.
The explosion had caused a red liquid of some sort. The doctors and scientists stepped in the liquid, their vision blurred.
One doctor grabbed onto a patient, his hands smothered with the red, irritant chemical. One wiped his hands along the cut of the patient, which was the biggest mistake that anyone could've made.
The patient shot up from the bed and bit the hand of the petrified doctor. The doctor yelled in pain as his hand oozed blood.
The patient had become mutant. A zombie.
Scientists and doctors covered in the red liquid managed to collide with the patients too. The gases and liquids managed to create a combination that turned the patients into manic, flesh-craving zombies.
The patients bit into the panicking workers, their bloody teeth sinking into the flesh of arms, legs and necks. Blood began to mix in with the aqueous liquids on the floor, causing extreme pain to the newest victims of the plague.
The doors of room 116 burst open. The Prime Minister was stood outside, trying to work out what the commotion was about. The blood quenched zombies piled up on top of England's leader, ripping his flesh from his body.
Otis Kingston, the old Prime Minister, rose from the blood puddle under his mutilated body.
No one is safe in the annihilation.
YOU ARE READING
Annihilation
HorrorA disease has broken out in Britain. The government are paying scientists to try and find a cure to the killer disease, but when the experiments go wrong and a handful of flesh eating mutants, zombies, are released onto Britain's streets, England go...
