Don't Be Scared

S.1 E.13 ~ Doctor of the Dead (Ch. 111)

No hair was on this thing. It looked like it had be smelted and then shaped to be that way. The thing just laid there, stilled in movement and unable to speak. It stared up at Murphy like he was a savior of some sorts.

"Hold him down." An unknown male voice barked the order to whoever else was on the film, "Hold him down!"

I guess Merch, or whoever else was occupying the room, wasn't moving fast enough for the man-in-charge's liking. I finally gathered the thing's appearance, sending a picture to my long-term memory log before finally removing my eyes off of it.

It seemed.. friendly. Better than The Brother's back at the red zone. Maybe it was  stable since it didn't have any means of being able to capture and bite us.

"Turn off that camera." The man-in-charge commanded one more time.

The video was shut off the moment my eyes finally looked at the computer screen. Murphy turned to the side, staring down at whoever was laying on the metallic slab. Was it the same man from earlier?

"The vaccine must've worked. Kept him from turning zombie." Warren commented on the appearance of the scientist, piecing things together.

Was-Is this Brandon? All of us stared at the victim, who laid helplessly on the cold support as our eyes took him in. Will this happen to Murphy if we surrender him to Merch and the other man?

"But it won't let him die." Murphy completed the research of the previous vaccine made by Doctor Merch.

Surely they've found other candidates by now and modified the testing for Murphy's body, right? Murphy's eyes filled with emotions I never thought he had in his soulless body: concern, pity, sadness.

He looked at this thing like they had history together when they don't. At least, I don't believe they do. They're only in similar situations, but so far, they have different outcomes. They will have different outcomes.

I'm not going to let him turn into what Brandon is; there is no way in Hell I'm letting Charlie witness Murphy be like Brandon. A connection may have formed between Murphy and Brandon so quickly; that's probably what Murphy feels about Brandon.

"Did Merch do this to you?"Murphy squatted down to get eye level with Brandon as if his flesh wasn't rotting from his bones while they spoke.

"He's trying to say something." Murphy explained what he was hearing, leaning his head a little bit further in while turning to the side so his ear was exposed.

The weapon in my hand visibly clenched tighter in my grip at the sight, not liking this situation; not liking this place anymore. It's got so much negativity surrounding the area it's hard to like this place.

I just want to find the antibiotics, grab Cassandra, and leave. There isn't anyone here for us, waiting for the package to be delivered. It's time to leave while we still can.

I could finally hear the last sentence from Brandon's scratchy, dry voice, plead, "Kill me."

"We're getting the Hell out of here." Doc spoke up once Brandon had said his request, expressing how he no longer wanted to be here.

He didn't want to come inside the building in the beginning, but now he really doesn't want to be here.

"You've got company." An unexpected voice made me jump from my standing position as Citizen Z popped up from the computer screen we were just watching, "Looks like Doctor Merch and two soldiers headed your way. Should be there any second."

After a second, Citizen Z's predicament came true: the twin doors of the medical lab swung apart from the other, revealing a rather short figure in a yellow suit and two tall men in black military suits, armed with guns.

Each held a automatic rifle that wasn't pointing at us once they saw we were the people they've been trying to get. They stood attentive behind the mysterious figure, ready to do whatever she commanded.

"Doctor Merch." Murphy growled, straightening up his legs to stand his full six feet height, "We meet again."

Murphy marched around the slabs, but stopped short in between 10K and I when the figure took off the mask covering their face.

"Doctor Merch didn't make it." The voice was deep enough to tell it was only a man.

Finally, the view of the mask was removed to allow us the viewing of a man in his late-40s, bald. His figure was shorter than most men and if he took off that suit, I was betting on him having a stomach like a true grandfather.

Health was in his white skin tone, but wrinkles told us he's seen a few bad things in his lifetime.

"I'm her boss, Doctor Kurtz."

The sound of his name triggered a memory of 10K's words at the beginning of this journey, 'Happy birthday, Doctor Kur--'. Half of the cake had been cut and digested by the time we arrived at the scene.

Was Dr. Kurtz here when the Zs attacked this establishment?

"I'm here to help you save mankind." He clarified his business, his hands linking together in front of the suit once the head of it was settled on the floor by his feet.

He does know that nothing is contaminated unless bit, right? A warm, but rough, palpation suddenly gripped my hand. The thumb of whoever locked against my palm while the other digits wrapped around my own warmth.

I looked down to see what was actually touching my hand and followed the appendage up to their face. 10K had our hands linked together, but his face was a facade to the outsiders.

|| Let's cause a little trouble ||