Pathogen

                                                                                              I

   Fools.  All of them.  They are the reason we lost everything.  How could the government approve it?  We weren't told about what was going on inside Base Gamma 1; we were security.  Just mindless grunts.  But look who survived in the end.  Where is their "testing" now.  I'll never forget the first grave dweller.  Boy did it take me.  

    We got the call in the middle of the night.  We were in our tents, board as hell, and awaiting orders.  The call went something like this: "All security personnel report to... what the hell is that!  Shoot it!  Shoot it! Get your a___ in here, security!"  Then his com cut out.  We ran into the compound without question.  Dr. Walker looked as if he had seen a gohst, and for all we know he could have.  The next thing I knew, my gun was gone from it's holster and blood covered the wall; Dr. Walker had shot himself.  there was a bite mark on his arm.  It wasn't like any bite mark I'd ever seen; it almost looked human.  But why?  We ventured further in only to find body upon body, mauled and seemingly eaten alive.  We came to a door where the collapsed ceiling blocked whoever was trying to get out.  Buried under the rubble was an arm clad in an orange prison suit.  It appeared to have been nawed off.  Our crisis had just begun but in reality, it seemed to have been there for weeks.  The skin had deteriorated and sores were forming.  We opened the door to the Living Test Subject Research Center only to find inmates behind a pane of glass in the same condition as the arm found outside.  I've never seen anything more driven and strong in my life.  They had nearly broken down the pane when one of us shouted "Evacuate the researchers!"  Captain Jameson said what we were all thinking; "No time!  Shoot the ugly bastards!"  The pane broke just as the words left his mouth.  We shot to no avail.  They were fast; faster than any person I knew, if they were even people.  The beasts absorbed our bullets.  They dragged off Willson and a couple researchers into the dimly lit chemical compound storage.  Willson was a good soldier.  The only way to kill them was to shoot them in the head.  Short and sweet.  Some escaped to the recseses of the base during the fire fight.  Captian Jameson led the way into the storage room.  One of them tackled him, but was met with a knife to the forehead.  The image of Willson's body being eaten alive would plague me for the rest of my life.  His chest was torn open and his entrails were being eaten like freaking sausages.  He was still alive; his heart (now visible) was still pumping.  I always knew he had a big heart.  Poor kid.  I had taken him under my wing since day one.  I shot the damn monster in the head (repeatedly).

    We were forced to retreat.  I got on the heli with a lot less others than I came with. As we flew away in the chopper, I saw the beasts chasing those of us who didn't make it in time across the surrounding desert toward civilization.