Author's Note:
Hi everybody! Long time no see. (:
This chapter was one hell of a chapter to write. There was so much that I wanted to happen and set up for the upcoming season because as of the end of this chapter, we'll have officially reached the end of the season 1 plot arc!
There is a lot of information thrown at you this chapter, it's very plot-heavy and also rather long. I did a lot of research while writing this one but I would like to point out that I'm clearly in no way a genetic engineer or a biomedical engineer or anything like that. I like my story to be at least loosely based off fact, but it is still a fiction story and does require for some suspension of disbelief.
That being said, I'd like to thank my lovely reviewers for encouraging me to keep writing even when I want to pull my hair out: sillygabby, 'H.', masseffectrulz, KEZZ 1, NOTagentsofnothing420, T'Liana, aishiteru naru, not-ur-dreamgirl, Angela, Paty S, casper6six6 and scythe195. I know I don't respond to every review but trust me when I say I appreciate them all!
Anyways, let's get this show on the road. Check my Author's Note at the bottom of the page for an important announcement! Enjoy!
Standard Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead. I bow to the copyright of AMC and Robert Kirkman. The only thing I own are my OC characters and their likeness.
Special Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this work of fiction do not reflect those of the author. This story is rated M and is intended for mature audiences only.
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The only thing separating me from total darkness was an ominous crimson glow. Before me was a timer, counting down at a rate faster than what should be normal. Another clock on the wall told me it was past three in the morning but I found that I couldn't sleep.
I had never imagined a life without timekeeping before the dead started coming back to life. I had always taken for granted that I had known the day of the week, the month, the year. There had always been a clock on my wall or the time displayed on my phone. I had a schedule, a calendar, a time for dinner and a time that I slept, only to wake up the next morning and do it all over again the next day.
Now though, the actual measurement of time meant nothing to me. There was no difference between 6 in the morning versus 6 at night other than the sun. I had nowhere to be and really nothing to do so that's what it came down to; sunrise and sunset. Night and day.
That was all there was.
So it was a strange twist of fate that I was here now, unable to tear my eyes away from the clock in front of me. I watched as the seconds flew as they counted down, the minutes slipping away at an alarming rate. I had been standing here watching for at least an hour and in that time, the counter had lost three times that.
To say I was concerned would be an understatement. I didn't think anyone else had noticed this peculiar clock, or if they had, they hadn't been keeping track of it as I was. No one else had seemed concerned over it the few minutes I had spent at the table for dinner, only wanting answers over the certain hell on earth that was now our lives. I guess I couldn't blame them.
I would definitely be asking Jenner about this clock the next time I saw him, whenever that may be. I took a moment to silently fume about the situation he had left me in earlier tonight; the entire group had known I had been with him all day, and yet he had given me nothing to tell them. The little weasel.
An idea came to me and I found myself speaking out loud into the darkness, "Vi, can you tell me what this clock is for?" I asked. After all, how did I expect answers without asking the questions first?
"The clock located in Zone Five is synched to the energy level in the basement generators," the cool, robotic voice replied. I took a moment to let this sink in, watching the numbers speed away. If these numbers were tied to the generators then...
"What happens when this clock reaches zero, Vi?"
"When the clock in Zone Five reaches zero, facility-wide decontamination will occur," was the computer's simple, ominous answer. I felt goosebumps rise on my arms, shivering.
Facility-wide decontamination? That certainly didn't sound good. However, now that I thought about it, I guess that would make sense. There were undoubtedly things in this place that one would not want to escape, even during the apocalypse. Measle strains, Smallpox, Ebola, deadly flus–the list could really go on and on. I could only imagine the horrors that were contained in this building, kept at bay only by the modern technology that ran from those generators. As unsettling as that thought was, there was something that unsettled me further.
"Vi, what is the procedure for decontamination?" I asked quietly, unsure if I really wanted to hear the answer.
"Decontamination for catastrophic power failure entails the use of H.I.T.s to prevent outside contamination."
"Define H.I.T.s, Vi."
"H.I.T.s—High-Impulse Thermobaric fuel-air explosives consist of a two-stage aerosol ignition that produces a blast wave of significantly greater power and duration than any other known explosive except nuclear. The vacuum-pressure effect ignites the oxygen at between 5,000 and 6,000 degrees fahrenheit and is useful when the greatest loss of life and damage to structures is desired," the computer replied without hesitation, completely unconcerned by how quickly all the air had left my lungs. I felt my eyes go wide at her words which echoed throughout the large room, suddenly dizzy. I flailed my arms around in the darkness, trying to find a chair so I could sit. Eventually I bumped into one, clumsily falling back onto the seat.
The numbers, which had been unsettling to me previously now took on a whole different, insidious gleam. I watched them tick by in horror, luminous in the complete darkness of the room, a countdown to our deaths if we didn't get out in time.
After I got my breathing under control–which felt like hours, but according to the clock in front of me was really only several minutes–I was on my feet, sprinting out of the big room and into the living area. The information that all that separated us from a fiery demise was a couple of weeks and a handful of days had sent me into a panic and I needed to share the news with someone. I had enough secrets to carry, this one couldn't be one of them. Before I really considered what I was doing, I was standing at the door of the only person I wanted to talk to, knocking as loud as I dared.
"Daryl? Daryl? Open the door!" I whisper-yelled, looking over my shoulder nervously, hoping I wasn't waking anyone up other than Daryl. I waited several moments, pressing my ear against the door when no one answered, straining to hear inside. Nothing. I knocked again, louder this time. "Daryl, seriously! Open up!" I hissed, ear still pressed against the plywood of the door.
The clicking of the locking mechanism and the swinging open of the door happened almost instantaneously, causing me to lose my balance in surprise. I fell forward, my arms flying open to catch the doorframe at the same time as I felt Daryl's hands grasp my shoulders, steadying me. A familiar, pleasurable thrill ghosted over the exposed skin that he managed to touch but just as my brain registered the feeling, he quickly pulled away.
"What are you doing?!" he spoke in a harsh voice that came out from behind gritted teeth. Almost before the question was out of his mouth, I felt his hand grab my forearm, yanking me inside the room and quickly closing the door behind me. "Have you lost your fucking mind? Do you know what time it is?" he demanded, seething.
His obvious anger had me slightly aghast. "Okay first of all, ow," I said, yanking my arm out of his grasp and massaging the tender skin that his grip had caused. "Second, what the fuck is your problem?" I demanded, my anger finally catching up with my shock.
"My problem?" he repeated. I couldn't see his face well because of the darkness but I could almost hear his eyebrows rising into his hairline. "My problem is you showing up here in the middle of the night, knocking loud enough that the Emperor of fucking China could hear you," he snapped.
I couldn't help the small bit of hurt that blossomed in my chest at his harsh words and even harsher tone but I tried to ignore it. I had always known that Daryl didn't mince his words, and under normal circumstances I could understand why he would be upset at me showing up in his room at this time of night. Still, this was an unusual situation and I'd be damned if I'd wait till morning–I could only imagine the nightmares I'd have if I did.
"Look, I'm sorry, I just needed to talk to you–" I told him, only to have him cut me off.
"We have nothing to talk about, girl," he gritted out harshly, stopping me in my tracks. "Whatever you came here for, the answer is no. Now leave," he demanded.
"Wait, what?" I asked, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "What are you talking about? This is really–"
"–I couldn't give a fuck less what you're here for, girl," he interrupted once again, his anger so palpable that I took an unconscious step back, "You fucking heard me. Get out."
I could only imagine the dumbstruck look that was on my face, my mouth hanging open in shock. I was glad for the darkness. "Daryl, what is wrong with you?!" I finally managed to ask, unable to keep the indignation out of my voice. I had a feeling that he and I were on two completely different pages and despite my earlier need to share the burden of our possible untimely demise, I suddenly couldn't find it in myself to care about it. "I don't understand," I told him, crossing my arms over my chest.
"Why doesn't that surprise me?" he snarked, his voice cruel. "Look, I don't know what you were expecting, girl. Flowers and chocolates? Maybe dinner and a movie?" he mocked, "God damn, you're so fucking naive. Just fucking go, alright? I ain't in the mood for this high school shit," I felt his arm reach around me for the door handle, trying to open it. I took another step back, pressing my back against the door to keep it closed.
"Wait, you're talking about us?" I asked, apparently slow on the up-take. "Jesus, Daryl, what the fuck is the matter with you?" I demanded as he retracted his arm, turning away from me. "That's not even why I came here, you fucking moron," I seethed.
"Whatever," he threw at me, and I felt my anger blow up to epic proportions at that single word. "I already told you. Whatever reason you came here–I don't care. The answer is 'no' to all of it, alright?"
"No, not alright," I snapped, my voice rising. "Seriously Daryl, what is wrong with you? You don't honestly think that I expect that shit from you, do you? Flowers and chocolate?" I repeated, aghast. "What the fuck? I don't want or need a date to the fucking prom, Daryl."
"What part of 'I don't care what you want' do you not fucking get, girl?" he asked sarcastically. "And keep your voice down, stupid. What, you want everyone to hear you?"
"Who cares if someone hears me?" I demanded. "I don't give a flying fuck who hears me! I'll fucking scream from the rooftop if I damn well please, got it?" I snapped, before raising my voice to a shout. "Do you get it now? I don't care who fuckin–" my yelling was cut off by Daryl's hand slapping over my mouth, muffling my words.
I was so shocked, shocked was barely the right word. I was floored. Flabbergasted. Mind-fucking-blown that Daryl would dare put his hands on me like this. My back stiffened as I registered his close proximity and I felt a brief flare of fear.
"Keep your fucking voice down," he growled, and I could feel his warm breath on my face. Rage replaced fear and filled my veins. I found myself opening my mouth to chomp down on his hand at the same time that I raised my leg, kneeing him in the crotch. My desired effect was immediate and rather satisfying as he doubled at the waist, groaning and quickly pulling his hand away from my mouth.
"Fucking Christ, Avery, was that really necessary?" he howled, taking a large step back from me. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand to get rid of them excess saliva that had formed on my lips.
"Keep your voice down, the Emperor of China will hear you," I sneered.
"Oh yeah, that's real funny," he growled, though his voice wavered. With the amount of force I had used, I imagine that his balls felt like they were up in his throat. A small smile formed at that thought. Served him right. Bastard. "You're such a fucking kid. Who fucking does that?" he threw at me, "Get the fuck out of here, girl. You need to go before I get up again."
"Are you threatening me?" I asked, hating the way my voice shook. This conversation had gone completely out of control so fast that my head was spinning. I felt the odd urge to cry but I blinked back the sting of tears in my eyes. "Jesus, Daryl, what is the matter with you? Why are you being like this?" I demanded.
"You don't get it, do you?" he asked from his doubled-over position. "This is how it fucking is, girl. That's just it. You're a girl. A child. Shit, Avery, what the fuck did you expect? I had already done a stint in juvy while you were still shitting your fucking diapers."
In a detached way, I was impressed at how cruel he could be while gasping for air and probably resisting the urge to throw up. His words certainly had a way of cutting me precisely where I already felt weak.
"You kissed me," I reminded him, feeling stupid for the few tears that managed to slide over my waterline. "I was pulling away, you remember? I realized I was being stupid. You were the one to change my mind. You said we were okay," I told him.
He laughed, a harsh humorless sound that cut into my chest. "I'm only fucking human, girl. What was I supposed to do, with you throwing yourself at me? Literally in my lap?" he asked tauntingly, finally managing to stand up straight, though he held a hand over his gut. "It was fucking embarrassing. I didn't want to hurt your feelings," he told me.
I felt my face grow hot with embarrassment, "Yeah, well you're doing a bang-up job at sparing my feelings, Dixon," I snapped, rolling my eyes. I could feel shame spreading through my gut, remembering our kiss through a whole different set of eyes now. How could every touch, every sensation, every taste have been out of pity?
In my opinion, that kiss had been a long time coming.
No. I refused to believe that I was the only one that had felt anything. I know he must've felt something, too. It hadn't been one sided. If that were the case, what was with his sudden personality change? If the kiss had meant nothing to him, he wouldn't be acting this way. Hell, he'd probably just kiss me some more. He had obviously enjoyed himself even if he had just done it out of pity, there was no denying that. That kiss had meant something.
"Yeah well, I remembered that I'm not responsible for your delicate sensibilities," he sneered. "Your feelings don't mean shit, do you get it? Just like that fucking kiss. It didn't mean anything."
"You keep telling yourself that, Dixon. Maybe if you say it enough, I'll actually believe you," I told him, rolling my eyes. I reached for the door handle, the air in this room suddenly threatening to suffocate me. "In the meantime, I hope your balls stay permanently up in your throat, you fucking prick," I taunted him, throwing open the door.
"Fucking bitch," he muttered under his breath, presumably thinking I wouldn't hear him. I looked over my shoulder at him.
"Better to be a bitch than a coward," I snapped, before exiting the room and slamming the door behind me.
.
.
The night passed slowly after my encounter with Daryl. I returned to the big room, pulling a chair over to sit in front of the clock. I stayed awake for most of the night, relieved that eventually the speed of the numbers decreasing had slowed to what seemed like a normal rate. I must have dozed off at some point though because one time I felt that I merely blinked and suddenly lost two hours. I roused myself and made my way back into the living corridors.
It was still pretty early when I walked into the mess hall, and only Dale and Carol were up. Both raised their heads to look at me when I entered the room, but neither greeted me otherwise. I didn't mind at all, in fact, preferred it that way. I felt like hell and probably looked it, too, so I made my way to the bathroom to try and freshen up.
Grogginess permeated my mind, so when I opened the door to the bathroom, I didn't really register the sound that reached my ears. It wasn't until the slapping sound coupled with a "Fuck, Lori," growled in Shane's voice that I realized what I had walked in on. My eyes landed on one of the stalls, observing the way it shuddered against the force that was being exerted upon it. A quiet, feminine moan echoed through the room, covering the gasp that escaped my lips.
I slapped my hand over my mouth, eyes wide, quickly turning around and trying to catch the door. I reached for it, only to have it fall shut just as I extended my arm. It wasn't exactly a loud sound but it was loud enough that both of the bathroom's other two occupants fell deathly silent.
"You didn't lock the door?!" I heard Lori hiss.
That was enough for me. I grabbed the door handle, throwing it open and running into the hallway. I escaped back into the mess hall and my spirit soared to see that Merle had woken up and ventured out. I practically ran to his side, sitting down next to him without a word. I didn't want Lori to catch me alone after that, and she definitely wouldn't say anything to me if Merle was around. Yeah, okay, I was basically using Merle as a human shield but I just didn't have it in me to deal with Lori right now.
He looked over at me, eyebrows raised. "Mornin', Birdie," he greeted gruffly.
"Hey, Merle," I returned quietly, unable to keep my eyes off of the door that led from the bathroom. What the actual fuck had I just walked in on? Shane and Lori fucking, seemingly consensually? It was a stark contrast to what I had walked in on a couple nights ago.
I really wished Shane would have had the decency to lock the door. This was the second time I had walked in on them and I wasn't sure what time was more disturbing. Probably them fucking but–
Oh god. Why me? Like, what was with my life that it always had to be me? I put my arms on the table and rested my head on them, closing my aching eyes.
"Ya look like death warmed up a bit," Merle observed wryly, taking a drink of whatever was in his cup. From the smell of it, it was coffee. I lifted my head slightly from my arms, taking a moment to glare at him. I rolled my eyes before plopping my head back onto my arms.
"Fuck off, Merle."
My outburst surprised Merle, who let out a quick laugh. I didn't raise my head but I felt him reach over and muss my hair. I went to go push him off but he retracted his arm too quick, so instead I shot another glare at him. "What's the matter, Birdie?" he asked, way too cheerful for my taste. "Ya really look like someone pissed in yer cheerios," he quipped.
I sneered, looking down at the mug he had in his hand. It was indeed coffee, black from the looks of it. "What are you cutting that with?" I asked, pointing at it. "Vodka? Liquid ambrosia? Go get me one," I demanded–sounding like quite the little brat, if I do say myself–feeling the need to lash out.
To my surprise, he slid his cup over to me. "Nothin' that fun. Might have some cream and sugar, if that suits ya," he told me.
Unexpected emotion filled me at the simple gesture, and I felt a small smile reach my lips. I grabbed the cup and lifted it, smelling it first before taking a sip. It was too watery for my tastes, but it was warm and felt nice going down. "Nah, this is fine," I told him. "Thanks," I added, glancing over at him before returning my gaze down to the cup in my hand. I ran my fingertip around the rim, frowning.
"C'mon, Birdie," Merle hedged, nudging me lightly with his elbow, "What's got yer feathers all ruffled now? If I didn't know better, I'd say my lil' brother mighta done somethin' ta piss you off," he said, eyebrows rising.
I whipped my head to look at him, all good feelings gone. I glared at him.
"Aw, now, don't go lookin' at me like that," he said through his chuckling, raising his hands up in the air. "I'm old, not stupid."
"Shut up, Merle," I grumbled, my anger deflating as quickly as it came. "Trust me when I say that your idiot brother–" I cut off as the door that led from the bathroom opened, revealing a disheveled looking Lori. She looked wildly over the room, as if looking for something, until her eyes met my own. Her panicked demeanor shifted to one of silent fury, her mouth tightening into a thin line and her eyebrows drawing together over her harsh eyes. She stood glaring at me for a moment before rushing out of the room, towards the living corridors. I looked around the room, trying to see if anyone had noticed her odd entrance, but it seemed that no one had even looked up. I sighed before looking back to Merle, "Your brother is the least of my problems."
. ... .
I stayed in the mess hall long after Shane appeared from the bathroom a good fifteen minutes after Lori had left. About a half hour later, he returned. About ten minutes after that, Rick and Lori showed up with Carl. One by one the survivors showed up, looking cheerful and ready to start their day. Daryl was one of the last ones to show, taking a seat on the other side of Merle. There was an open seat next to Glenn that I moved to without a word or look in his direction.
No one spoke to me as breakfast was cooked and served. Only Glenn acknowledged me, giving me a glance and nod before returning to the conversation that was easy and light through the rest of the survivors. It seemed as though the survivors were taking my words last night seriously.
I was chewing on the corner of a piece of toast absentmindedly when I was finally addressed. I had already finished my eggs and sausage, so a considerable amount of time had passed.
"Hey, Avery?" an unfamiliar, small voice asked from my immediate left. I looked sideways out of the corner of my eye and saw that it was Sophia, Carol's daughter. I turned my head to face her. I had obviously known of the girl, having spent a fair amount of my first couple weeks with the group observing Ed and the way he interacted with his family, but I had never heard her actually speak before. She was a sweet, innocent little thing. Something that you didn't see much of nowadays.
I liked her. When I first joined the group, her dark shadow of a father had stood oppressively over her and her mother's shoulders, unrelenting in his grip on their very existence. It wasn't until Shane had beat the sorry excuse for a man half to death that Sophia had come out of her shell. I had seen her playing with Carl quite often, and Martinez's little girl before they had left. It was a far cry from how her life had been.
"Yeah?" I asked, aware of how every set of eyes at the table had flashed to me briefly as I spoke. I continued to look only at the girl, who looked very nervous to be speaking with me.
"Um. Are you–are you going to be meeting with the scientist guy today?" she stammered, getting straight to the point. My eyebrows rose slightly, and I looked to the girl's mother. To my surprise, she wasn't observing her daughter's interaction with me, instead looking down at her plate in complete concentration.
Huh. I had underestimated Carol, it seemed. She had obviously put her daughter up to this, essentially betting that I wouldn't lose my shit on a child and hoping I might satisfy a kid's curiosity.
"It's Sophia, right?" I asked with a smile, putting my toast down on my plate and giving her my complete attention once more. She nodded in response, her eyes the size of silver half-dollars. "I don't know if I'm going to meet with Dr. Jenner again today," I replied. "To be honest, I don't think he knows what he's doing," I told her honestly, lowering my voice to a whisper, as if the conversation was actually private.
She looked genuinely surprised at my words, "But he's a doctor, right?" she asked, falling into a whisper just like me. "He works here! He's got a bunch of computers and he took all our blood and stuff..." she trailed off, uncertain.
I was silent for a moment, considering my words. I chewed on the inside of my cheek a little bit before I thought of something to say.
"You know what my ma always used to say to me?" I asked rhetorically. "She would say 'Blizok lokotok, da ne ukusish,'" I spoke using the dry, lifeless intimidation of my mother's weary voice and accent. "Do you know what that means?" I asked, grinning.
Her eyes went wide at my sudden switch to Russian. She looked at me with something like admiration and I realized that I had spontaneously developed a soft spot for the girl. She shook her head.
"It means," I raised my arm, bending it at the elbow, "Sometimes your eyes can see something," I used my other arm to attempt to pull my elbow close to my mouth. I snapped my teeth theatrically a few times before I continued, "but your teeth just can't bite it." I grinned at her, dropping my arms back to my side.
She laughed at my display. She covered her mouth shyly with her hand while she did so, but her eyes were bright. "That's a weird thing to say," she finally told me, raising her eyebrows.
"Yeah, well, my ma was a pretty weird person," I mused agreeably.
"I just wanna know why all this stuff happened," Sophia told me, suddenly serious again. Her shoulders slumped, "You know, the Walkers and stuff," she clarified, as if I didn't know what she was talking about. "I just don't want to be scared all the time anymore." I frowned.
"Yeah, I know, kiddo," I agreed, nodding. I noticed that the conversation that had been in the air a moment ago had slowed to a stop without me noticing, and so I looked back down to my plate, tearing apart my piece of toast.
The sound of the hydraulic door opening from the big room had everyone looking towards the door. Jenner stood there, looking even more bedraggled than the day before. His eyes darted over the group of survivors before landing on me. He looked relieved.
"Ah! Avery, there you are. I've been waiting outside your room for quite a while," he called, motioning me to come to him with a wave of his hand.
I stood, "Dr. Jenner, I believe you owe the group in general some answers," I told him evenly, crossing my arms. "If you need another sample or something, fine, but these people deserve to know what's going on out there."
"Yeah," Andrea chimed in, looking at Jenner with a look of irritation. "The eggs are great and all, but they're not why we're here."
"I don't feel like I'm prepared to address the group as a whole yet about my progress..." Jenner started, but I held up my hand.
"You don't need to tell them anything about me. You need to tell them about it. About what caused all this," I assured him, ignoring the annoyed looks I saw some of the survivors cast one another.
Jenner frowned for a long moment, before eventually nodding. "Fine," he conceded. "If everyone could follow me to the big room, please," he directed, turning and walking towards the door. There was a loud series of chairs grating against the floor and a flurry of movement as everyone hastened to follow him.
"Vi, bring up the lights in the big room," Jenner commanded, the room lighting up immediately. "Bring up the playback of TS-19 on the large monitor."
I leaned back against one of the desks, crossing my arms over my chest as I watched the large screen in the middle of the room boot up, it's previously black screen suddenly illuminated with a loading bar.
"Few people ever got the chance to see this," Jenner informed us casually over his shoulder. "Very few."
The screen finished loading and showed a series of different shots of someone's head, all from different angles.
"Is that a brain?" Carl asked, his eyes wide at the picture before him.
"Yes. A rather extraordinary one," Dr. Jenner affirmed, smiling at him lightly. Carl grinned back. A dark look passed over the Doctor's features briefly and he looked away from Carl, back towards the screen. "Not that it matters in the end..
"Vi, take us in for E.I.V," Dr. Jenner continued quickly, addressing the computer once more.
"Enhanced Internal View," Vi chimed cooly.
The picture on the computer changed to show the upper shoulders and head of the subject, the screen skewing to a horizontal view and increasing the magnification. As the image became more and more detailed, the magnification increased into the inside of the skull. I could feel my eyes go wide as I looked at the picture before me, amazed by the different threads of energy that I was seeing. Some areas were denser than others, but there were lighted threads throughout the whole skill. The magnification increased even further until I could differentiate the threads and pulses of light.
"What are those lights?" I heard Shane ask from behind me.
"They're synapses," I replied, without the usual venom I had towards him. I was too impressed by the view before me. I had learned about synapses in multiple different classes at school, but words on a page had done nothing to inspire the beauty I currently saw before me on the screen.
"Yes," Jenner agreed, casting me a small smile before looking back to the screen as well. "It's a person's life–experiences, memories. It's everything. Somewhere in all that organic wiring, all those ripples of light, is you–the thing that makes you unique and human," Jenner informed the group, and I noticed that as he spoke, some of the fire I had seen during our first conversation returned in full effect.
"So, you don't make sense, ever?" Daryl asked sarcastically. I had an urge to glare at him but that would require acknowledging his existence, so instead I just continued to look forward.
"As Avery explained, they're called synapses. Electric impulses in the brain that carry all the messages," Jenner explained, glancing at the group. "They determine everything a person says, does, or thinks from the moment of birth...to the moment of death."
"Death?" Rick asked, speaking up and stepping forward. "Is that what this is? A vigil?"
"Yes," Jenner answered agreeably. "Or, rather, a playback of a vigil," he corrected.
"This person died?" Andrea asked. "Who?"
"Test Subject 19," Jenner replied, turning away from the group and instead looking back at the screen. "Someone who was bitten and infected...and volunteered to have us record the process," he cleared his throat quietly. "Vi, scan forward to the first event," he quickly continued.
"Scanning to first event."
The screen flashed with a box that read 'Scanning', but the brain was still visible. At first, everything seemed normal. The magnification decreased until we could see the head and shoulders, and the lights were still flashing in the skull. Then, something changed. A darkness started to swell in the middle of the brain. The lights were still flickering on the outer parts of the brain, but the dark mass was growing, as if spreading it's roots.
"What is that?" I asked quietly, stepping forward.
"It's the pathogen. It invades the brain like meningitis. The adrenal glands hemorrhage, the brain goes into shutdown. Then the major organs," he paused, closing his eyes against the image of the computer before him. "Then death. Everything you ever were or ever will be...gone."
"Mama, is that what happened to Jim?" I heard Sophia ask.
"Yes, sweetie," was Carol's simple reply.
"Vi, scan to second event," Jenner commanded, his voice monotone.
"Scanning to Second Event," Vi announced.
"The resurrection times vary wildly," Jenner continued on, without missing a beat. "We had reports of it happening in as little as three minutes. The longest was eight hours. In the case of this patient, it was two hours, one minute, seven seconds..."
The light was now gone from the subject's brain. There was nothing but darkness, until a faint, red glow appeared at the bottom of the subject's brain. Strands of light randomly shot out into the larger area, but it was nothing like the brightness from before.
"It restarts the brain?" Lori asked, sounding horrified.
"No, that's just the brainstem, right, Doc?" I corrected, looking at Jenner. He shot me a wry look. "Doesn't restart the brain. Just gets them up and walking," I informed.
"Yes, that's correct," Jenner confirmed.
"But they're not alive?" Rick questioned, looking between Jenner and I.
"You tell me," Jenner stated, motioning to the screen.
Rick looked back to the screen before shaking his head, "It's nothing like before. Most of that brain is dark," he observed.
"Dark, lifeless, dead," Jenner rattled on, "The frontal lobe, the neocortex, the human part–that doesn't come back. The you part. All that's left is a shell driven by mindless instinct."
On the screen, the subject began to move. It's mouth opened and closed, head moving side to side. It shoulders moved as if it was trying to lift itself. A barrel of a gun appeared, pointing at the subject's forehead. The gun suddenly fired, sending a bullet through the brain and tearing through the red glow at the base of it's head. After that, the brain went completely dark again, the subject still once more.
"Oh, god. What was that?" Carol demanded, her tone shocked and disgusted.
"He shot his patient in the head," I stated matter-of-fact, pushing off the desk I was leaning against. "Didn't you, Doc?" I asked.
"Vi, power down the main screen and workstations," Jenner said, in lieu of an answer.
"You have no goddamn idea what it is, do you?" Andrea spat. I looked at her, realizing that I hadn't been paying attention to her during the presentation. Tear tracks ran down her face, her eyes full of anger.
"It could be a lot of things," Jenner told the group offhandedly. "But in that vein, I really do need to speak with Avery in private," he hedged, looking at me seriously. I saw that several of the other survivors looked irritated at his announcement, but no one said anything. I nodded, walking to his side.
. ... .
We left the big room through the hallway that lead to his study. He seemed nervous and antsy, taking large steps that caused me to have to almost jog to keep up. He opened the door and held it open for me. I stepped inside, instantly aware of the camera being on in the corner of the room. I took a seat at the chair across his desk.
"So what's the prognosis, Doc?" I asked, leaning back in my chair.
He took the seat in front of me, interweaving his hands together and resting them on his chest. I was once again shocked by how exhausted the man looked, his skin a dull grey and the whites of his eyes almost completely red. He sighed heavily at my question.
"God, Jenner," I gasped, "You look like serious shit," I informed him. "Have you even slept? Like, since we got here?" I asked, looking at him in concern.
"A few hours," Jenner told me gravely. As if my question had brought attention to them, he rubbed his presumably burning eyes with the back of his fists. "It's difficult for me to keep a regular sleeping schedule down here, and there's only so much time..." he trailed off.
"About that," I said, perking up. I narrowed my eyes at him, "When were you going to inform us that in about sixteen days we're gonna get blown straight to hell, right along with the rest of this place?" I asked the question calmly and evenly, but Jenner's face snapped to mine.
"How do you know this?" he asked, just as evenly.
I rolled my eyes, sighing, "Jesus, Doc, let's just assume here that I'm not a complete idiot, alright? It'll make things a lot easier for both of us." He met my eye and frowned lightly, pursing his lips. "You have a virtual intelligence program. I'm assuming she's a feature exclusive to this Zone, which–again, just guessing here–was restricted to only authorized employees. She answers to everyone."
Surprisingly, his frown turned into a soft smile, and then a small chuckle escaped his lips. "Yes, it's true," he admitted. "Has anyone ever complimented your perceptiveness, Avery?" he asked good-naturedly. "My wife would have enjoyed your company greatly, I imagine," he went on to tell me. I felt my eyebrows rise slightly–I hadn't realized he was married. So much for this so-called perceptiveness of mine. "You remind me of her quite a bit, actually. Especially your...cunning and intuition," he said as if trying to find the right words. "She would have been honored to research your condition."
"Your wife is a doctor as well?" I asked, interest peaked. As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I realized my error. Jenner hadn't used the present tense when speaking of his wife, but rather past tense. "Erm–I'm sorry. I mean, she was?" I corrected, wincing slightly.
"Yes," Jenner told me, his face suddenly mournful. "Her and I were both biomedical engineers, although my wife also had several other official job titles," he reminisced, a peaceful look on his face as he recalled. "She was like an Einstein in our field–hell, she practically ran the place; I just worked here. I didn't mind standing in her shadow, though," he was quick to inform me, as if worried I was getting the wrong idea. "I was just amazed that she let me stand so close," he finished mournfully, his eyes dropping down to his desk. I followed his gaze and saw that he was looking at a picture frame.
I raised myself from my seat, leaning over the desk to see the front of the picture. It was one of Jenner, his arm wrapped around a lovely brunette woman. She wasn't the normal interpretation of beautiful, but the way her smile radiated of happiness and her eyes shone with intelligence made her more attractive than most. I looked to Jenner, who was still looking at the picture. An unexpected surge of emotion filled my chest at the depths of sadness I saw on the man's face.
"She was beautiful," I complimented honestly, leaning back and sitting down. He didn't reply in words, but nodded at my compliment. He was quiet for a few more moments, his eyes never leaving the frame, and I took a moment to observe him. I quickly made a connection. "It was her, wasn't it?" I asked quietly.
His eyes snapped to mine. "Excuse me?" he asked, sounding startled.
"Test Subject 19," I clarified, voice even. "You said it was a playback of a vigil, and you watched it with the same look in your eyes as you have when you look at that picture," I continued on, trying to keep the pity out of my voice. "Test Subject 19 was your wife."
His eyes closed briefly at my words before they opened again, "Yes, that is correct, Avery. Test Subject 19 was indeed my wife," he informed me, an almost amused tone filtering through his words. "Like I said, perceptive. Yes, you and her would have got along very well," he mused. "And she might have actually had something useful to give you and your friends by now," he told me, his tone self-depreciating.
I was glad that my revelation hadn't had a negative impact on our conversation and Dr. Jenner seemed okay with continuing it. I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. "How about you just tell me what you do have to give," I suggested, trying to not sound too eager.
"Well, let's start with the pathogen, then," he started, leaning back in his chair. "I assume you have some basic knowledge in biology, yeah?" he asked. I nodded. "I didn't want to go into too much specifics with your friends. The prognosis isn't good. The pathogen that has caused this massive outbreak is some type of super virus," he informed.
"Super virus?" I repeated, sounding skeptical. "Is it...like, able to mutate super quickly? Or...?" I trailed off.
"No, no, nothing like that," Jenner quickly waved my guess off. "When I say super virus, I say so because I believe it was partially manufactured by humans. My guess is that they took pre-existing viruses–perhaps Marburg or maybe Rabies with a dash of a flu virus–and manufactured a different, new virus entirely," he told me. "The virus itself has similarities with several different viruses that I'm familiar with, but overall is a completely new pathogen that I've never encountered."
"You're talking biological warfare here," I interjected, horror filling me. I had always known it was a possibility, of course, but to consider and to know were two very different feelings. The knowledge that the hell on earth that we were now experiencing was manmade was absolutely sickening–and yet, not so surprising. After all, the ultimate killer of humans had always been, well, other humans.
"Exactly," Jenner confirmed with a nod. He was quiet for a moment, as if considering his next words carefully. "This next part," he began hesitantly, sounding extremely reluctant, "was what I was concerned about sharing with the entirety of your group. I will leave the decision up to you, but I must advise caution. Some knowledge is dangerous to share," he warned me cryptically.
"What is it?" I asked, trying keeping the impatience out of my voice.
"Viruses are special due to their ability to lie latent in cells for an undetermined amount of time. Essentially, they enter a cell and embed themselves into their host cell's DNA. The host has little to no symptoms and is often not aware of infection. Meanwhile, as the host cell's replicate, so does the virus," he explained. I listened with apt attention, an uneasy feeling settling in my stomach. "Unfortunately, this is what our virus does. It is a latent infection, and everyone is infected–"
"What?!" I screeched, unable to keep my mouth closed. "That's impossible! No one's even been bitten–"
"–Avery, please," Jenner held a hand up to me, and something serious in his tone made my impending meltdown delay itself. "Everyone that I've tested is infected," he repeated, looking at me straight in the eye. "In the event of death–barring severe trauma of the brain or skull–everyone comes back as one of the undead. The chemical processes that occur in the last stages before death trigger the virus."
"You don't have to get bitten?" I asked, dumbfounded. I fought to close my mouth, but my lower jaw felt like a brick. "You just...come back? No matter what?"
"Yes," Jenner said simply, no sugarcoating whatsoever. "That is the general idea. However, that's something that you'll never have to worry about, Avery," he told me simply. "Out of all the samples I've taken and others that I've seen, you are the only person that does not carry the virus inside of you," he continued on, not skipping a beat. "You are not infected."
I blinked. Whatever emotions I had been feeling only moments prior vanished completely to be replaced by a cold, numb sensation. I blinked again. "Excuse me?"
"When entering the cells of it's host, this virus attaches to seven separate receptors on the outside of it to gain entry," Jenner went on to explain, either ignorant of my shock or choosing to ignore it. "For some reason, you have a mutation on at least three of these receptors that enables you to block the virus from entering your cells."
Silence greeted Jenner's explanation. I didn't know what to say or how to react. Going unnoticed by the corpses was one thing. One great thing. But the fact that everyone I knew was infected by this disease and I just wasn't? That was just...I mean, what were the odds of that happening? I just...I didn't...
"So I'm...immune?" I finally managed to sputter out, my voice unsteady.
Jenner took a moment to reply, squinting his eyes in concentration, as if trying to find the right words. "No, I wouldn't say you're immune, at least not in the truest definition of the word," he told me. "In order to be immune, your body would have to produce antibodies that enable you to fight off the infection. You don't have that. You, instead, have a natural resistance to the virus. It's something I've seen before–primarily with resistance to HIV–but it's exceedingly rare."
"You've seen cases like mine?" I asked, instantly perking up in interest.
A short laugh escaped the Doctor's lips, a small smile forming on his lips for a brief moment before fading away. He shook his head, "No, no, nothing like yours," he admitted. "Similar, but in the cases of men that are resistant to HIV it's a resistance that's been inherited over thousands and thousands of years of organic genetic engineering," he explained quickly, as if he was in a rush to get all of the information out of his brain. When he paused for breath, his gaze flashed to me and he observed me with some question in his eyes. "With you–God, I don't even know how to explain it," he paused, as if struggling for words. "With the virus being what it is–man made–for you to have as many mutations as you do, it's just–" he cut off, as if the words were difficult for him to physically speak. "It's just difficult to fathom that you would have just inherited these genes by happenstance."
"What do you mean, difficult to believe?" I repeated, eyes wide. "What are you saying? That I'm the way I am because someone made me this way?" Even as the words came out of my mouth, I knew it was insane. There had been a lot of medical advances in the last couple years, but nothing in the realm of what he was hinting at. I shook my head. "No, no, that's ridiculous," I insisted, raising my hand to stop any further words from him. "Let's try to deal with one crazy theory at a time, shall we?" I suggested. Jenner pursed his lips slightly but nodded.
"Okay," I continued at his quiet acceptance to me changing the subject. "So you said I have a resistance to this virus," I began, trying to keep my voice controlled. "But what happens if I'm bitten?"
"Statistically, that's unlikely," Jenner replied easily. "From what you've told me and based off my own research, the–uhh–corpses are somehow able to detect that you do not carry the virus inside of you, and as such you are not optimum prey," he informed. "You see, the bite of a corpse isn't the cause of infection. Rather, when one is bitten by a corpse, a sort of 'on' switch activates in the virus that is already inside the host, which leads to the inevitable change. You, however, have no virus inside to you activate. So if for whatever reason you were to get bitten–which, again, is very unlikely–you still would not fall victim to the infection."
I was again silent. My thoughts were a whirlwind and visions of my mother's bloodstained corpse danced in front of my eyes. Meanwhile, Jenner continued to prattle on. He might as well have been speaking Pig Latin for all I could understand the words that were coming out of his mouth. My skin broke out into a cold sweat and my head started pounding. I could hear my pulse in my ears loudly, and it was suddenly difficult for me to draw a breath or swallow.
"Avery? Avery? Avery, are you alright?" Jenner's loud, surprised voice finally registered in my mind. I looked up at him from where my eyes had fallen to the floor. I could only imagine the look of panic that must've read on my face because he quickly stood and walked around his desk until he was in front of me, leaning down on his haunches until he was at eye level with me. "If you need to go get some air–err, I mean, space, I guess–you can come back later. I know that this is a lot to take in..."
I fought to regulate my breathing, feeling like a fucking idiot for having a panic attack in front of Jenner. After what felt like forever but what was probably only a few minutes, I finally managed to speak, "No, no," I insisted, shaking my head. "No, I'm fine. I'm sorry–I just had a moment," I told him. He looked at me skeptically. "Look, Doc, I said I'm fine so I'm fine," I repeated with more of my usual edge. "Please, continue."
"Alright," Jenner agreed, though his voice was still hesitant. He stood and returned to his seat across the desk, looking at me for a moment before he continued speaking. "As I was saying–if we're talking theoretically–if you were to be bitten by a corpse, you wouldn't necessarily be out of the woods. It would be life threatening for you, without proper medical attention."
"Wait, but you just said–"
"You have no threat of turning into a corpse," Jenner stated simply. "The dangers you would face would be more of a mundane nature. Based off of previous research I did before you arrived, the enzyme that triggers the virus is not the only thing present in the corpse's saliva. There is a vast array of different, dangerous bacteria that are resistant to most antibiotics. Only large, continuous doses of intravenous antibiotics over a timeframe of up to two weeks and proper dressing of the wound would potentially save you."
"Well, I guess it's a good thing that I don't plan on getting bit," I forced out, still trying to gather myself. I had no reason to be as freaked out as I was. Compared to the rest of the world, I was literally walking on sunshine. I was beginning to compile a list of questions for Jenner but from the look on his face, he was no where near done talking.
"We're losing sight of what's really important here, Avery," Jenner told me, an edge of excitement creeping into his voice. "The most important here is that you will never turn into one of them. Ever," he said, a smile on his face.
"That's definitely a plus," I agreed lightly. I felt too shocked for his information to properly sink in. "So what next, doc?" I asked, my voice filled with humor. Or at least, that's what I hoped it sounded like. "This is the part where you tell me I'm the cure or some beacon of hope for the whole human race, right?"
Jenner's smile slowly faded at my question. His eyes drifted downwards again to his wife's picture. "No, no, nothing like that," he told me, shaking his head. "While your case is extraordinary, it's not as though you possess antibodies that would be needed to make, say, a vaccine," he told me, slipping into what I dubbed as his 'doctor-voice'. "You simply possess mutations that shield you from the disease. The only beneficiaries from your condition would be you and whatever future children you may have, if they're lucky enough to inherit your mutations."
I snorted, "Yeah, fat chance of that," I said, holding back a shudder of disgust. I had never been much of a kid person and had never wanted kids before the world went to shit. I certainly didn't want any now or in the foreseeable future.
"There is one other possible option..." Jenner muttered under his breath, almost as if he was talking to himself. I narrowed my eyes.
"What?"
Jenner paused before answering, "It's a relatively new branch of study and not much had been done with it before Wildfire started," he began. "Avery, have you ever heard of stem cells?"
My eyebrows furrowed as I tried to recall the semi-familiar term, "I...think so? I remember reading a small section about it in my biology class at school.." I trailed off, straining to remember. "Don't they have something to do with embryonic development?"
Jenner nodded, pleased with my knowledge. "Yes, those are what we call 'embryonic stem cells'. ES stem cells are collected from an embryo that is only 4 to 5 days fertilized. They're especially useful because the cells are pluripotent, meaning that they have the potential to develop into any of the germ layers; endoderm, mesoderm or ectoderm," he informed. "However, research and experimenting with ES cells raises some ethical issues that led to the ban on any further studies involving them."
"What does this have to do with me?" I asked, voice hard. I had an uneasy feeling telling me I wouldn't like where he was going with this.
"Well," Jenner paused, taking a deep breath as if gathering his courage. "I'd like to harvest some of your eggs for study."
I choked on my own saliva, "Excuse me?!" I demanded. "You want to do what?!"
Jenner held his hands up in front of himself. I wasn't sure if it was supposed to be a calming gesture or if he was getting into a defensive stance just in case I decided to punch him in the mouth. If it weren't for me being down a hand already, I just might have.
"Please, just hear me out, Avery," he said placatingly. "I know it's a rather unorthodox proposal, most certainly, but it would be for purely scientific purposes," he assured me. "As I said before, it is a possibility that you would pass on your mutations to any offspring you produce. If we can fertilize your eggs and culture them for a few days, the scientific possibilities are endless. We could use the stem cells to create some kind of preventative therapy, perhaps even a cure, in a loose definition of the word."
"You want to fertilize my eggs?!" I demanded, flying to my feet. "You're crazy! Absolutely insane! And who, exactly, would be fertilizing them?"
Jenner looked mildly uncomfortable, "Well, that would be myself, I suppose. That would be easiest. You have requested total privacy in regards to your condition, and were we to ask anyone else, it would give rise to questions," he rationalized.
"Oh, no," I said almost before he finished speaking. "No, that's not happening. Look, Jenner, you seem like a nice guy but I do not want you to be the father of my children."
His eyebrows rose in confusion before a short laugh escaped him. "You misunderstand, Avery," he said calmingly, "As I said previously, the research of ES cells was banned due to ethical concerns. You see, when one attempts to get stem cell samples from an embryo it has to be done during the blastocyst stage of development. Isolating the inner cell mass in an embryo destroys the blastocyst. There would be no child."
I slowly lowered myself into my chair. What Jenner was proposing was making me very uneasy–it was no wonder the research on this concept had been banned. While I had never exactly been a big fan of the idea of kids, I knew that if I had ever gotten pregnant abortion would have never been an option for me. Which is kind of what this sounded like. Giving life to something and then taking it away. It didn't sit well with me.
I mean, I know it had been done all the time before the end of the world, everyday, and I was fine with that. What other people did didn't concern me then and certainly didn't concern me now. People had their reasons, and I respected that. And it wasn't even like I wanted kids myself, per se, but I still felt uncomfortable with the prospect. As selfish as it was, all I could think was 'What if he takes the one good egg? What if all the rest of them are total assholes?'
"No," I said resolutely. I shook my head. "Absolutely not. There's got to be another option. Any other option than that."
Jenner frowned, his mouth hard. "If you insist, there is another procedure available..."
. ... .
I peaked my head into the mess hall, looking around to see who had assembled there. Almost everyone was there, leading me to assume that lunch was in the works. I stepped inside and searched for who I was looking for.
I found him, sitting across from the person that was pretty close to the top of my shitlist. I sighed, biting the inside of my cheek before I began to walk over to him. His back was facing me and so I tapped lightly on his shoulder as I approached. I doggedly ignored the eyes of his brother staring at me so intently
"Birdie!" Merle greeted once he turned around.
"Hey, Merle," I greeted, somewhat distracted. He noticed my fidgety demeanor and looked at me with concern.
"Wassa matter, Bird?" he asked.
"Can you come help me with something?" I asked, wrapping my arms around my chest. I felt very awkward asking anyone for anything, but all this 'harvesting' shit Jenner had put in my mind really freaked me out. I didn't want to do this alone. I motioned to the door that led to the big room.
Merle's eyes followed mine and his eyebrows rose. Curiousity peaked, he nodded. "Course I will," he agreed. He downed the rest of his coffee with one swallow before he stood. "Lead the way," he motioned.
I nodded, taking a quick sweep of the rest of the room before I headed to the doors, Merle in tow. Again, everyone had been looking at me. I'd said it before and I would say it forever, it seemed; these people were slowly driving me insane.
We exited the mess hall and I felt some of the tension drain from my shoulders. I led Merle to the hallway that went to Jenner's clinical room.
"What's this about, Birdie?" Merle finally asked.
I stopped walking, turning to face him. He followed my example. "Jenner wants to harvest my bone marrow," I told him. I didn't want to go all into it, but I knew I needed to give him some basic information. "He thinks that the key to my condition lies in my stem cells, and apparently that's the best way to go about getting them."
"Is that serious or sumthin'? No offense, kid, but I'm not very good with medical mumbo jumbo. Hospitals and shit freak me out," Merle told me. If I were in a better mood, I would have noted how amusing he sounded when he was nervous.
"Merle, please," I begged, grabbing for his arm and squeezing. "Look, I don't have anyone else to ask and Jenner kind of weirded me out earlier. I need someone to be there to look out for me and make sure Jenner doesn't do any funny business."
Merle instantly perked up, eyebrows furrowing in sudden anger. "What do ya mean, 'funny business'?" he demanded. He looked me up and down. "Did he try somethin' on you?"
"God, no!" I insisted immediately. "Jesus, you think I'd still be here if he did? No, it's not like that," I sighed. "Look, stem cells are these super powerful cells we all have in our body. He thinks mine are special, that's why he wants my bone marrow. But there's a different type of stem cell that would work better for him," I explained, trying to be as simple as I could. Not because I thought Merle was stupid or something, but simply because I didn't want to waste time. I wanted to get this over with. "The only thing is that those stem cells are only in embryos. He's very disappointed that I won't let him harvest some of my eggs," I explained.
There was some confusion in Merle's eyes, but the scrunch of his nose in disgust made it clear he understood the gist. "Yer eggs?" he asked, eyes drifting down to my stomach before back to my face. "Did I just hear ya right?"
I fought not to grin. "Yes, you heard me right. My eggs. That's why I want you there," I told him. "Jenner's gonna be putting me under general anesthesia and I want you there to make sure all goes as planned. Not that I really think he would do anything, but you know...just in case."
"Say no more," Merle said, putting his hands up. I wasn't sure if he was saying this as an expression or if he really didn't want me to say anymore; all the talk of eggs had probably freaked him out. "Let's get goin'."
. ... .
I was laying face down on an operating table, staring at the huge needle in Jenner's hands, trying not to freak out about that thing sticking me. I had an IV in my arm, and an uncomfortable tube down my throat that would help me breathe after the anesthesia was administered. Meanwhile, Jenner was talking.
"I will be placing the needle through the skin and into the marrow cavity of each hipbone, where stem cells and blood cells will be aspirated," he told us. Merle was off towards the edge of the room, but in my line of sight. "I'll be making two to three punctures on each rear hipbone. All together, I'll be drawing one to two quarts of your bone marrow. I know that sounds like a lot, but really it's only about five percent of all your total marrow cells," he informed. "Any questions?" he asked.
I shook my head.
"Alright, then. Let's begin. All in all, you should only be under for about an hour," he told me. He approached my IV with a smaller syringe, inserting it into the bag. "Administering general anesthesia," he announced. A dull, fuzzy feeling started traveling through me. Almost immediately, my eyes began to droop.
"Count backwards from 100 for me, Avery," Jenner requested.
"One hundred," I breathed, noticing how odd it felt to speak around the tube. "Ninety-nine, ninety-eight..."
And then I knew no more.
. ... .
When I came to, I was immediately aware of two things. First, my throat was on fire. Second, I felt like I was going to puke. I was still lying on my stomach and I groaned, trying to lift myself onto my elbows. I hissed as the motion pulled at the IV in my arm.
"Easy now, Birdie," a warm hand appeared at the middle of my shoulderblades, pushing me back down lightly. "Doctor said ta have you take it easy for a min," Merle told me.
"Where is he?" I croaked.
"Just left a couple minutes ago," Merle said. "Should be right back."
When Jenner returned, he checked my vitals before giving me water and advising me to take it slow. He told me to return before I went to bed that night so that he could change my bandages, and then sent me on my way.
There was a bit of a frostiness in his demeanor that hadn't been there previously, obviously at least mildly annoyed that I wouldn't let him harvest my eggs. I couldn't even find it in myself to even be bothered about it. It was weird and creepy for him to even ask.
Merle helped me back into the mess hall, insisting that I eat something. I really didn't want to but I hadn't the energy to resist his badgering. Instead I merely followed, holding onto his arm for support as I walked. I didn't know if it was normal or it was happening simply because I knew the size of the needle that had just been stabbed into them, but my hips ached. It made it difficult to walk.
Merle walked me over to the table and I gripped his arm tightly as I gingerly lowered myself into the seat, trying not to wince.
"Thanks, Merle," I said weakly, my voice coming out as a croak.
"Hey, T-Dog, we got any chicken broth of sommat back here?" Merle asked, walking over to where T-Dog prepared the meals, looking through the different cabinets.
T-Dog, who was one the other side of the large room playing what looked like chess with Glenn, looked up at Merle's question. He stood and walked over to Merle, "I don't know, man. Lemme look," T-Dog offered as he started going through cabinets as well.
Eventually, through a surprise bonding session between Merle and T-Dog, I ended up swallowing down some broth. It felt nice on my throat, but sat uncomfortably in my stomach. I was glad they didn't insist on making me eat more. When I was finished, I slowly lifted myself from the table, intent on going to the bathroom.
Merle stood, as if he was going to help me, but I waved him off. "Sit down, old man. I appreciate it, but I don't need your help taking a piss," I informed him as I hobbled to the door. It was much slower than I normally went about my business, but eventually I made it to the door.
When I reached the bathroom this time, I knocked before I opened the door, listening for a response.
"Just a second," I heard someone call from inside. I sighed, leaning against the wall as I waited.
When the door opened, a freshly showered Rick appeared in the doorway. He looked at me, his eyes wide as if something surprised him.
"Jesus, Avery, are you alright?" he asked, arms twitching as if he wanted to help support me. I was honestly surprised at his concern.
"I'm fine," I told him, pushing off from the wall. "I just got back from Jenner's and he had to put me under anesthesia. It makes me a bit sick, apparently."
He continued to look at me with worry on his face. "Anesthesia? You look like chalk. Are you sure you're alright?" he asked.
"I'm fine," I repeated tiredly. "I just, uh, need the bathroom," I hedged, as he was still blocking the doorway.
"Oh, right. Sorry," he moved. "Well, you take it easy, Avery," he said politely before he started to walk away.
I watched his retreating form for a moment before I called out to him. "Hey, Rick?"
He turned around, "Yeah?" he asked.
"Jenner told me something today," I told him. "It's something that I'm not sure the group should know."
Interest definitely peaked, he started to walk towards me, coming to a stop about five feet away. "What do you mean, you're not sure if we should know?" he asked.
"It's something big. Something that no one can do anything to change," I said, intentionally cryptic. "I think that you should know, but I really don't think anyone else should," I told him.
"What is it?"
I shook my head. "Not here," I said, looking over his shoulder at the doors that lead to the mess hall. It would take a minute to explain, and I didn't want anyone walking in on our conversation. "After dinner, stop by my room. We'll have a talk," I offered.
He observed me for a moment before nodding, "Alright," he agreed.
I nodded once before I slipped inside the bathroom and closed the door behind me.
.
.
After my encounter with Rick, I returned to my room and slept until I heard a knock at my door. I wearily pulled myself off of the couch and shuffled my way to open the door. Rick was there, looking down at the ground uncomfortably with his arms crossed. He looked up at my opening of the door.
"Hey Rick," I greeted. Even to my own ears, I sounded exhausted.
"Hey," he said, sounding awkward. His eyes flickered sideways, down the corridor. Curiosity peaked, I stuck my head out of the door frame, looking the same direction he had. To my amusement, Lori was standing outside of her and Rick's room down the hall, arms crossed over her chest and looking fit to be tied as she glared in our general direction.
"I told her you wanted to talk after dinner and she uh–she wasn't happy," Rick explained, wincing. "I assume you didn't want me to bring her, right?" he asked, sounding almost hopeful.
Laughter threatened to escape me, and I couldn't help the huge ass smirk that was on my face even if I wanted to. I rolled my eyes and vowed to give her something to really stew over, turning my gaze back to Rick.
"Thanks for coming, cowboy," I spoke, my voice a purr and yet loud enough to carry down the hallway. "Didn't think you'd show," I winked at him, gaining some sort of devilish enjoyment at the way his face flushed red, eyes going wide. Before he could say anything, I reached forward and grabbed a fistful of his shirt, pulling him inside. Shocked as he was, he put up no resistance and I closed the door swiftly behind him, locking it.
"Look, Avery, I think I misunderstood," he was quick to stammer. "I didn't realize–"
"Don't flatter yourself, cowboy," I cut him off, rolling my eyes. I walked away from him, going to sit down on the couch. "I just enjoy making your wife squirm, that's all."
He hesitantly stepped closer to where I was sitting, obviously trying to work through his confusion, "Is that why you asked me here?" he asked incredulously. "To piss off my wife?"
"Hardly," I rolled my eyes. "That's just an added bonus."
He exhaled loudly, sitting down at the chair that was next to the couch. "So, why did you want to see me?" he asked, unable to keep the annoyance out of his voice.
I leveled my gaze at him, sizing him up before I spoke. "Like I said before, Jenner told me something today that was particularly concerning," I told him. I paused before continuing. "Before I tell you though, I need your word."
"My word?" he repeated.
"Yes. Your word. Your word that what I tell you does not leave this room, unless you discuss it with me first."
His eyebrows rose and his eyes narrowed, "Alright," he finally agreed. "You have my word."
"Well," I exhaled loudly, suddenly at a loss of words. The silence went on for a moment too long and Rick started to look uncomfortable again. "I don't know how to say this. I'm not really good at giving bad news. Especially since it's not anything that you can possibly fix. It's one of those things that you just have to kinda live with and accept–"
"Avery," he interrupted my tangent, and I inhaled sharply. "Whatever you're trying to get out, whatever you're trying to say–just say it. I can take it," he told me.
"Everyone's infected," I spit out. "This thing? Whatever it is, it's in all of us," the words rushed out of me, almost by their own volition.
"What?" That was all he said. One word, so many questions.
"The virus. The one that turns us into corpses?" He nodded, eyes wide and obviously waiting for me to clarify. "It's inside of us. We don't get infected when we're bitten– we're already infected. Asymptomatic carriers. All the bites do is kill us."
I think there should be another word to describe silence. The definition of silence was the absence of sound and yet the silence that settled between Rick and I was so loud that my eardrums threatened to bust. "Please, say something," I finally requested, the tension in the air frazzling my normally steel nerves.
"We're...all infected?" he repeated, his voice shellshocked.
"Yes," I breathed, feeling a sort of release now that I finally shared that hell of a secret. "Everyone is. You, the rest of the group, Jenner..." I trailed off. "When we die–unless we get stabbed or shot in the head or something–it activates the virus that's already inside our bodies. It doesn't matter how we go or if we get bit or not. Everyone comes back."
"Jesus," he exhaled, dropping his head into his hands. He then abruptly stood, beginning to pace.
I was nervous to reveal the next bit, perhaps more so than the news preceding it. "There's something else," I admitted hesitantly. Rick stopped in his pacing and looked at me. "You know that weird clock in the room with all the computers?" I asked. He didn't say anything, only nodded. "Yeah, well it's counting down. Right now there's about fourteen days on the timer. It's synched up to the basement generators," I informed him. "And when it reaches zero? This place and everything inside of it are gonna get blown up straight to hell."
. ... .
Rick and I talked late into the night, discussing what our plans should be. We spoke no more on the subject of the virus other than to agree that we should keep it to ourselves, for now. I didn't mention to Rick that I wasn't infected and he didn't notice my omission, presumably due to all the shocking information I had thrown at him. That suited me just fine; I certainly wasn't looking forward to having to tell him anything about myself, though I felt sure that I would eventually have to. It was still so bizarre to me to even think about my condition–any way I imagined explaining it sounded horribly braggy.
Rick was more concerned about the fate that would befall the CDC in a little over two weeks. As I had been concerned about earlier in the week, Rick voiced worry over how people would take the news of having to leave. The CDC was a rare haven in what was left of our rag-tag society, almost like an oasis in a desert.
Rick insisted that we stay as long as we could, despite my warnings that Jenner's research was using an alarming amount of power. I wanted to leave sooner rather than later but relented, mostly due to how amicable he was being about everything else. It was decided that Rick would inform the survivors as a whole about our impending exodus over breakfast tomorrow. I agreed to that wholeheartedly, glad to have been spared the burden of having to tell the group.
When the morning came, I dragged myself off the couch and into the mess hall. T-Dog was preparing breakfast and only a few survivors were up; Rick, Carol, Sophia, Glenn, Merle and of course, T-Dog. Rick caught my gaze and nodded. I returned the greeting and made my way over to Sophia and her mother.
"Morning, kiddo," I greeted as I plopped down on the chair next to her. She looked over at me, eyes wide, as if surprised I had singled her out.
"Good morning, Avery," she greeted. I nodded slightly before moving my gaze around the room, trying to keep track of when the rest of survivors began to arrive.. "Your face looks better today," the girl next to me blurted out.
I looked back to her, noticing Carol's uncomfortable expression out of my peripherals. "Thank you," I replied honestly, flashing her a smile. She blushed slightly, as if embarrassed. "I don't know, though, I think I might miss it," I said, as if thinking out loud. "It was pretty awesome having all the colors of the rainbow right there on my face," I told her, giving her a little wink. She grinned.
I returned to looking around the room. As one by one the rest of the survivors showed up, I couldn't escape the thought that we needed to leave this place. It was a nice little stop on the way, but this place wasn't our endgame. There was somewhere out there that we could live and this wasn't it.
There was something else, too, that was bothering me. I couldn't put my finger on it but I had the strongest feeling that we needed to leave, like, yesterday. It was illogical so I mostly ignored it but I couldn't manage to shake it completely. Still, I wished I had some excuse to get everyone to leave sooner.
Perhaps it was luck or perhaps it was chaos that was shining on me today, but I got my wish. Rick began his announcement when Daryl finally dragged his lazy ass into the hall. He was no-nonsense and straight to the point in his deliverance, much to the chagrin of many shocked survivors. People immediately started to object and voice their concerns, all at once. Again, I was grateful that Rick had volunteered to take this burden.
The group was in a heated debate over the merits of leaving(survival) versus staying(none) when the hydraulic hiss of the door leading from the big room announced Dr. Jenner's arrival. I had been staying quiet during the argument, not wanting to get involved, when he entered and my eyes snapped to his frame, almost happy about the opportunity for interruption.
That is, until I got a good look at his face. My heart jumped up into my throat at the wild, crazy look in his eyes as he looked over the group of survivors. The conversation in the air stopped at his entrance, the survivors shocked by his sudden arrival and excitable demeanor. When his eyes landed on me, he moved towards me, almost lunging.
"Avery!" he exclaimed, his voice frantic. I stood, knocking my chair over behind me in my haste to get away from his approaching form. "Avery, you have to leave. You have to go. You've got to get out of here, right now," he announced.
Merle was suddenly at my side, standing between Jenner and myself. "Look, Doc, just 'cause she wouldn't let ya do your freaky mumbo jumbo don't mean you can just kick her out," he growled.
Jenner completely disregarded him, eyes staying only on me, "Avery, you're in danger," he told me and from the tone of his voice, I knew he was being serious. His words felt like ice water being dumped down my spine.
"What do you mean she's in danger?" Rick asked, standing from the table.
Unlike when Merle spoke, Jenner's eyes flashed to him briefly before they returned to me. "Someone hacked into my network, Avery. I don't know how they managed to breach my security programs–I told you, I'm only proficient with computers–but it was like nothing I've ever seen. Something like this has never happened, even before Wildfire. The amount of power needed to breach my defenses–it's significantly larger than the power I have available to me now," he told me, panicked.
"What does this have to do with Avery?" Merle demanded angrily.
"Avery," again, he disregarded the others to speak directly to me, as if I was the only person in the room, "they knew what they were looking for. They were quick, precise and if I hadn't been doing a systems check at the time of attack, I would have never even known they were there," he told me seriously.
"Who was it?" I asked, my voice oddly loud in the oppressive silence of the room. "Who has that kind of power?"
"I have no idea, Avery," he admitted, "but I do know that your files were the only thing they seemed to be interested in. My notes and research, my video footage of our interviews–they were the first things they accessed."
"What are you getting at here?!" A shrill voice asked, making me jump. I looked over to see it was Lori, her annoyance almost tangible in the air around her. "Who cares if somebody found her files? Why is that so bad? Isn't that why we came here?"
"Friendly forces don't slink around in the dark, Avery," Jenner told me seriously, locking eyes. "Someone out there knows who you are, knows what you can do, and knows where you are. You're not safe here."
.
A/N:
Whew! I'm so relieved that this chapter is over, you have no idea. I can't wait to hear what everyone thinks about Avery's condition, whether it be your theories or if you have any questions! There is still much more about her condition that you don't know yet, so don't go thinking the interesting part of the story is over. The fun has just begun, my friends.
In order to celebrate the ending of the first season, I've decided to once again offer a sneak peek into season 2! I'm about half way through the next chapter, and it's definitely a good one!
For all those that don't know how this works, you must leave a review to qualify(because I've review hungry, sue me). It is also important that your PM feature of the site is activated. For all my reviewers that like to review anonymously, if you'd like to use a throwaway email to receive the sneak peek, just leave your email in a review and I will send it to you that way.
Can't wait to hear what you all think!
See you soon (: