The End

Cavalry

Dr. Harper had a routine. Whenever I fell asleep, he'd come to change my catheter--and untie my restraints. It seemed like an easy opening, but I underestimated just how weak I was from all of the blood I'd lost and the medication he'd had me on. That was the tough part: figuring out how the hell I was going to muster enough strength to take out a grown ass man.

I'd have to wing it and pray that the element of surprise would grant me the upper hand.

Dr. Harper's shuffling rang in my ears. I listened as close as I could without making it obvious that I was lucid. He was walking further and further away from the bed, probably towards his office to record today's data. However, as the sound of his key card being swiped followed by the opening of the entrance door was heard, I knew he might've acquired a new specimen.

Another poor soul to test on.

I heard them--the soldiers I could assume--dragging the body, plopping it down on the bed next to me. "Shit, he's heavy!" They cared so little about the fact that this was a person, that this was someone's someone. Did this apathy toward another human life already exist, or is it just a side effect of the pandemic possibly ending the world as I've come to know it?

"That one's still holding up? She been in here for a while now, I thought she'd die the first night we brought her up in here."

"She's something, all right." Dr. Harper said. "Away now. I'll let you know when I need you again."

The footfalls shuffled farther away from my bed until I heard the door close again. The doctor's keys jingled as he was at the bed next to mine. Curiosity had me wanting to sneak a peek at my new bed mate, but I didn't want to risk him seeing that I was awake. His keys jingled again before I heard screeching across the marbled flooring and then a tiny flick.

"I have here, specimen number 0025: an African-American male in his mid to late twenties. He has a wound to his left leg which is spreading the infection to the rest of his body. I wasn't informed on how long it'd been since he'd been bitten, but he still has a faint pulse.

BP is seventy over fifty-four; skin around the wound has the consistency of a ripe orange with the same blotched patterns we've come to realize is a sign of infection; pupils are nonreactive to light. With the speed of which I've witnessed this infection spread with others, I'll give him about four minutes--maybe less--before he is dead and then undead and thus no longer able to be saved. For time's sake, I'll set the stopwatch to two minutes and forty-five seconds," I heard the beeps of the watch, then the movements of the silver medical table.

"That should give us time to test out the second trial of the serum that I've created with the help of specimen 0014. Specimen 0025 does not have sickle cell anemia nor is he a carrier. We are at one minute fifty-five seconds and I am now injecting him with the second trial serum. As you can see, he is hooked up to a heart monitor for reference; BP at injection has fallen to sixty-four over twenty-six. I will now start the second stopwatch; time until death is one minute thirty-five seconds. Now we observe the first subject of the second trial."

"In the meantime, let's get you cleaned up, darling Maya." He said lowly from beside me. The pinch from the catheter was one that I'd never quite get used to, but I have gotten so accustomed to it that I can straight face the pain. As if I was sleeping. The doctor was always so kind as to clean me off before inserting the next catheter.

My foot twitched as he unbuckled the restraints on my ankles. So badly did I want to kick him in the face, but I knew I had a much sweeter victory on the horizon. I kept my cool and laid there limply as he made his way to my wrists. The air hit the spot that had been hidden since the last time he'd untied me.

The difference was this time, I aimed to stay free.

Just as he untied my last hand, the beeping on the heart monitor began to skyrocket. Harper immediately turned his attention from me to investigate. "The subject seems to be having a reaction to the serum. At approximately forty-five seconds before death, and one minute into the injection, the subject's blood pressure has risen to ninety-six over sixty-five..." The doctor paused in awe and honestly, I was a bit awestruck, too.

I couldn't help myself anymore. I opened my eyes, blinking a few times to adjust to the fluorescent lighting in the bluish gray room. When the blurred colors finally became solid figures, my vision was met with the black sweater clad back Dr. Harper.

The moment had arrived. I felt it in my bones as I sat up in the bed. The opening in the back of my hospital gown left my back to feel the breeze. It felt good. Felt like freedom.

My legs swung off the bed, the balls of my feet touched the icy tiles of the floor. Gingerly I rose, bracing myself for the weakness in my knees. I bit my tongue to keep myself from crying out at the pain that shot up from my ankles to the rest of my body.

"Jesus Christ," Dr. Harper said still in his state of amazement. Finally, I was at a decent enough angle to see what he saw: the bite mark on mahogany skin, the EKG indicating a steadily rising heart rate, the rapid rising and falling of a chest indicating working lungs.

And the face.

Those eyes that opened so wide, I could see the fear in them. The recognition. The acknowledgement of the situation. "M-M-M," He took a breath and swallowed deeply. "Maya?" The tone was scratchy and dry like sandpaper. Almost unidentifiable.

It was Sam, lying there on that table like the experiment that Dr. Harper had turned him into. I snatched one of the needles from the medical table.

"Maya?" Harper asked loudly before abruptly turning around. The shock on his face didn't last long before it was replaced with one of anguish after I jammed the needle into his eye. The needle went through like it was penetrating a freshly chewed piece of gum.

I used all the strength I could muster to push it in as far as it could go while shoving him backwards onto Sam, who'd begun to seize up. I paused, watching the soul that was just there moments ago, leave those expressive eyes. Slowly, the dark brown irises turned into snow. His mouth slacked--more so on one side.

For a moment, he was still. Even blinking once as if trying to understand what was going on. The next moment, Sam was gone and the sickness took over. He pulled at the restraints on his wrists, snapping his mouth at me. The sound of his teeth clicking together gave me chills.

There's nothing more frightening than watching a person's soul leave their body.

Harper stirred on Sam's belly, taking his attention off of me. I took that as my cue. In one last act of vengeance, I pushed Harper closer to Sam's gnashing teeth. Horror emanated from his chest as Sam latched onto his neck. His stubby legs thrashed, jingling the keys. I wasted no time snatching them off the loop of his black slacks.

Harper slumped to the floor, an oozing pile of blood and flesh. Desperately, he held his hand over the open wound in his neck. Sam chewed on the flesh inside of his jaws. A mixture of blood and saliva trickled down the side of his mouth. His stormy eyes locked on mine.

"We...almost had...a cure...could've saved...everyone..." Harper gurgled through the blood building in his throat.

"Fuck you!" I shouted before limping to the door. I swiped his key card, opened the door, and shuffled out of there as fast as I could.

Was Harper right about almost finding a cure? Possibly. For as long as I'd been subjected to his experiments, I'd never witnessed anyone take to the serum the way that Sam had. He might've been extremely close to finding a cure for this sickness, but there had to be a better way than the one he was using. 

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