Disclaimer: I don't own the Resident Evil stuff.
And I'm sorry this isn't formatted correctly, I copied it from an email. (I wrote it on a laptop, and I'm not one for floppy disks.) Don't worry, just pull through this and you'll read perfectly formatted chapters after it. (
Nelson Mossman stumbled out of the car and into the cold, freezing air. Snow covered the ground securely, trying to make his every step more difficult. He began walking, straight away from the grill of the jeep he had driven in. The night and the heavy fog impeded everything he did. "Ok, where is it?" He asked reluctantly over the radio attached to his huge coat. "It should be right in front of you, can't you see it?" Erik Gowin's voice came out of the radio. Nelson couldn't see more than ten feet in any direction, the base's lights made a huge smudge in the sky. He pressed down on the radio button again. "I can't see my hands in front of my face, guide me to it." Nelson said, furious he had to be out here. "Whoa, I'm getting some new readings from the sensors, a few people are out there. They're somewhere around the satellite, poor fools probably don't know what it is." Erik said and laughed, putting his feet up on the desk. He watched on the radio as Nelson walked almost right into it. "I found it. I'll have it back in no time. What'd you say about others?" Erik Gowin's voice wavered; he looked around in the ice coldness for anything. "Yeah, there's people out there, they all seem to be huddled around something, and it isn't 'it.'" They had specified not to use anymore detail than necessary about the satellite. Nelson just stood there in the cold until he thought he heard something, the crunching of footsteps in the snow. He turned and picked up the satellite, preparing a smile for his fellow searcher. Nelson was able to easily hold the tiny satellite; it was a mere foot long. He saw the outline of a fur coat coming towards him. The man came into view; his face was covered with blood. The man tripped and fell, one of his feet had been severed, and he was walking on a bloody stump. Nelson's smiled instantly faded. "Holy shit! They must've opened the god damned thing!" Nelson turned around and ran as fast as he could. He smacked into the front of the jeep, the satellite slid out of his grip and across the dash. He turned around, fumbling to get the keys out. After finally getting the keys out he threw the satellite into the passenger seat, and got in. Suddenly, Nelson recognized what he had seen. A zombie? He chuckled to himself nervously at the thought. He started the jeep, and he looked forward. There were three of them. Three zombies stumbling towards him. The car refused to move its tires; they had sunk into the snow while it was sitting there. Nelson jammed the gas pedal nearly to the point of making it go through the floor. After the wheels spun for about ten seconds the jeep shot forward. The three zombies all were hit. One of them landed on the roof; the others bounced off the side. The jeep's paper-like roof could barely hold anything, and the man on top fell through it. The thing sat silently in the back seat as Nelson turned the jeep around and headed for the base as fast as he could. He turned to look back, the man... or whatever it was, remained still in the back of the seat. He knew there was an emergency pistol in the bag at it's feet. The base was a mere half a mile away when he abruptly reached for the bag. The man-zombie lunged it's upper body forward and bit into Nelson's upper arm. He smacked the zombies' head with the bag, sending it's cranium against the door. Nelson turned around, adjusting the mirror to look at it. His arm had barely been bitten at all but blood came from the small wound. It didn't move. The base was now right in front of him. He grabbed the bag in one hand and the satellite in the other. He ran out of the car, dropping both the things in his hands and turning around to lock the car. I'll be damned if I let that thing loose, he thought to himself and grabbed the bag and satellite and went into the heat of the base. Erik still sat with his feet up on the desk reading a magazine. "Oh hey, did you find it?" Erik said looking him over. "It was opened. They opened it." Nelson said, looking at Erik, who stood up. "What do you mean they opened it? Why would they open it?" "It's opened for god's sakes, and they've already become... you know." Nelson said holding his arm. Erik saw the small bit of blood running down Nelson's arm where the coat had been torn away. "What's...that from?" Erik said walking over cautiously. "He bit me. Remember from the file? They become almost entirely brainless, seeking out only food." Nelson said, reminding him. "Take the antidote. We'll get the hell out of here and call the T-Team." Nelson opened the satellite's doors. Under the four sliding doors should've been the virus and the antidote. Neither was there. Both of the containers' spots were empty. Nelson shuddered, a chill going up his spine. Maybe I can live without it, he thought to himself. He looked further around inside. There were other unused medications. He took one and threw the glass to the floor, which shattered it. "Found it?" Erik said smiling, digging around his paper cluttered desk, and stopping suddenly. "Here we go." Erik lifted a .50 caliber Desert Eagle from his disorganized pile of papers. A loud bang noise came from outside. Erik and Nelson turned their heads to look out one of the huge windows. Inside the jeep, the zombie had gone berserk, it slammed against the glass, ripped the paper top away and made a huge bloody mess out of the interior. "What happened? Why the hell is it in our jeep?" Erik asked, franticly. "I tried to run them over." "Damn it, how the hell are we supposed to get to the plane?" Erik said waving the gun. "Just shoot him. You have the pistol, you know. I have another in this bag too." Nelson responded angrily. "All right, let's go. You drive." Erik said watching the zombie in the car shift it's jaw. They threw their hoods up and opened the door. Once again the coldness attacked Nelson's skin. Nelson left first, examining the perimeter, making sure no other zombies were in the area. He glanced often at the zombie in the jeep who tracked his movements, banging on the glass. As Erik left the base he happened to glance at the satellite. One of the other medications had been taken. He noticed a label on the broken glass. It was a painkiller, not the antidote. The antidote wasn't there at all. Nelson didn't take the antidote, Erik's mind processed through it all. He remembered reading about what happens after the virus gets into your bloodstream. You become one of them, the estimated time for this version of the T-virus was two hours. He set his watch to go off in an hour and a half. He walked outside. Erik Gowin leveled the weapon on the zombie's face and fired. Blood spattered the seats, along with what remained of the once-man's head. "Help me get this fucking thing out." Erik pulled the limp body out of the car with Nelson's help. They looked in at the gore all over the seats and exchanged glances. Nelson sat in the driver's seat; he pulled his fur coat down uncomfortably so he didn't feel the blood. Erik took off his coat and used it to absorb the blood and threw it to the snowy-ground outside. They sat down and buckled their seat belts, each holding their pistols. "The plane's just a little ways up that way." Erik said, pointing. "Ok, let's get the hell out of here." Nelson pressed on the gas and they headed for the plane. Four minutes later they almost hit the plane with the jeep. Nelson was about to say something but Erik already knew what he was going to say. "I know how to fly it. You just sit back and relax. We're gonna be fine." Erik said, knowing that Nelson probably wouldn't be fine. They both ran for the plane, pistols coming with them. Nelson jogged into the back; he had a sudden sense of wooziness that forced him to sit down. The plane was a small, personal jet. Erik didn't bother to do all the normal checks that usually prevented disaster; they did a routine check once a month anyway, it was fine last time he checked. He started the engine and they took off. Erik turned on autopilot as they came to the correct height. He looked down at his watch. One hour. He felt weary. It was the search. Erik and Nelson were the only people at outpost 151. They were supposed to simply give 'it' to a special flight carrier. Oh shit, the flight could be going in any second now. It was too late for them now. They'll probably see the damn bastards and get out ok, Erik thought to himself. He set the plane to alarm mode, if something went wrong with the plane it would wake him, and drifted to sleep. Nelson was weary too, he tried to lie down on the seats that ran along the side of the small plane. Nothing appeared to work or help him sleep. He suddenly noticed something on the seat where he tried to rest his head. It was a note, written on a piece of fabric. The pen used to write it was neatly between the cushion and the back of the seat. We drove out to find it, the goddamned satellite. Wind had helped the plane along, we arrived two hours early. Would've been completely different. So different. The bastards at the outpost didn't respond to our radio calls so we went out to find it ourselves. It's hard to remember, so hard. There were so many of them. They were my friends. I know I'm dying, I feel it, the slowness. Anyway, we found the thing out there in the middle of nowhere. For some reason Rhett Lowery, thought we should just open the thing up, we had walked this far and carrying the whole satellite would be pointless. So...So he opened it, he took only what we needed, the virus and the antidote. Seven of us went out there, three of us came back. Rhett took good care of the virus and the antidote. Something swept over him suddenly. Like something hit him mentally. He just leapt out... he attacked everyone. Like some sort of cannibal. Somewhere out there is his body, limping along, carrying a bottle labeled T-virus. It doesn't contain the T-virus anymore though. The three of us came here. Our pilot is dead. He was the second one to go. I don't think we have much time left. We went to our plane, but the pilot or Rhett still had the keys. We found this thing. The three of us just sat here until we could plan how to keep ourselves from infecting others. Now, as I write this, I know we have no real weapons and we have no fucking clue as to how to kill ourselves with the plane. I just know one thing, we won't let anyone else get what we have. Kurt left the plane and went to the hangar ten minutes ago. I think he's dead. When I look at Andy Dawson he just looks back and nods his head. I have come to the resolution that we should lock ourselves up somehow. He is dead. That damned Kurt. He's right outside. One of them is eating him fucking alive. Andy went out there to fight too, tried to save him. He took a nasty bite in his arm. I'm bite free and infection free as far as I know, but I was pretty close to the virus container a few times. Andy pleaded with me not to do what I did, but I had to. It was for the better. He's still complaining and telling me stories about when we were kids through the closet door. I know how fast the disease works and I hear the sound of scraping once in awhile as the one's outside claw at the metal frame of the jet. Andy just stopped talking awhile ago. I think he finally turned. I guess I should do something in case I'm one of them. Andy is scratching the door. I have to go. I think he could get out. I don't know what to do, but if you read this, get the fuck out of here. Loretta Horton Nelson picked up his Desert Eagle and walked over to the closet. "Hello? Is anyone in there?" Nelson said, mostly to himself. There was no noise. Slowly, he turned the knob. The door slid open slowly. Nelson gasped and nearly threw up. The smell, then the image. It was clearly Andy and Loretta, one long metal pole connected the two to each other and to the closet's walls. Quite a resolution, Nelson thought. They both reached toward Nelson hopelessly, Andy's feet bicycled in the air as he tried to grab Nelson who just stared at them in disgust. Blood covered the floor. Nelson raised the Desert Eagle to Andy's head. Fuck, he thought, the goddamned plane couldn't have holes in it. He put the weapon at his side, he sat down and watched wide-eyed at the two zombies. He didn't want to be one of those things. The door swung shut as the plane took a slow right. Nelson breathed nervously. I didn't see them, he thought to himself, they aren't really there. He just sat there wide-eyed and awake, staring at that door. Erik Gowin abruptly awoke. But what woke him up? He looked at the plane's dials and readings; they were all normal and good to go. He turned around and looked back. The door into the pilot's cabin was still shut. He turned back around in his seat and closed his eyes. He then heard the quiet beeping from his watch. He dismissed it, then realized what it was for. He looked down at it. It said '-33:22:12'. He knew instantly what it meant. Nelson, or what once was Nelson, was now one of them. He turned quickly and locked the cabin door as fast as he could. The click was followed by a loud slam, Nelson's whole body against the door. It slammed again and again. Erik Gowin stood up and aimed the Desert Eagle at where the head would be approximately. The slam, another six times, the seventh time the lock bent off and the door broke open. Nelson stood there, Desert Eagle in his hands, his nose was open and blood ran down from it to his coat, making a large red blotch. He moaned, and took half a step. Erik fired the Desert Eagle, the bullet went into the zombie's open mouth and blew a one inch wide circle in the back of it's head, Gowin saw the passenger seats through the open hole in zombie-Nelson for a moment until blood sealed the gaping hole. Then, in a stretch of overkill he fired again, the nose was gone. Nelson fell onto the door he had just broken down. Blood gathered at his face. Erik looked blankly at his co-worker. He bent over and pushed the door, holding the zombie, back into the passenger area. That body would cause a huge distraction during landing, he thought to himself. It's bad enough I have to deal with the blood puddle at my feet. He turned back to the gauges and plane controls. It was time for him to land. The base was perfect for this, Erik thought to himself. He walked down the movable stairway. Three soldiers aimed weapons on him, more annoyingly the flashlights on their guns blinded him. It was a standard procedure. "What's going on?" An old man in a white lab coat standing behind the soldiers suddenly blurted out. "Someone opened the T-Virus satellite." Erik Gowin said, trying to shield his eyes from the flashlights. "T-Virus." The man in the white repeated. "Ah, yes. Zombie maker. The virus was unleashed or was the satellite just opened?" "It's free." Erik said. "I'm Nathaniel Whitfield. Follow me." Erik barely saw him wave his hand to follow. Whitfield stopped and looked at the plane for a moment. "Burn the plane." Moments later Erik Gowin sat in a small room across from Whitfield. It had bright lights, a table, two chairs, one door, bulletproof one way glass, and two armed guards. "What happened?" Whitfield began. "Well, we had been searching for the satellite for some time. We needed to make the deadline–" "Deadline?" Whitfield interrupted. "Before the flight courier landed." Erik explained. "Right. Go on." "It was Nelson's turn to drive out to sector such and such, I can't remember. He took the jeep and went out there. He found the satellite. He also found some people. They had already been...effected." "They had opened it." Whitfield filled in, he nodded, and he ran his hands through his fluffs of gray hair nervously. The wrinkles on his face deepened as he looked back at Erik. "Right, Nelson had the bright idea to run them over. He somehow hit one and it tore through the top of the jeep." The man looked at him with a confused face. "It was a kind of paper, not metal. As I was saying, Nelson got back, the zombie was in the jeep. When he came into the base I noticed he had been bitten. I remembered reading from a file we had, the virus took two hours to fully effect it's victims. I set my watch to go off in an hour and a half." Erik stared at the old scientist. "Basically, we shot the zombie in the jeep, drove to the plane, I shot Nelson–" "And you landed here." Whitfield interrupted again. "Right." Whitfield folded his hands in front of him. He looked down at the table. Erik just sat there, wondering what he was thinking. "As far as you know, did anyone take the antidote?" The scientist asked. "I have no way to be sure, it wasn't inside the satellite. Nelson didn't take it, that's all I can tell you." "I see. What outpost are you from again?" "151." "Right. I'll deal with this. You just feel free to relax here at the base." Whitfield stood up and sighed. "One of you," He said to the guards, "take him to the living area." Nathaniel Whitfield walked into the control center only moments later. Military people surrounded him. He called an officer over. "You're going to get me two pilots and an aircraft. Load it with explosives. I'll be waiting for you on the runway. If anyone argues or attempts to stop you just tell them you are carrying out Mr. Whitfield's orders." The living area was basically just a huge room with a few TVs and six sofas. On one TV a man was talking about chemical warfare. Erik Gowin sat down quietly on one of the plain white sofas and closed his eyes to relax, but he only found himself thinking. The T-Virus was being launched from another country to outpost 151. Chemical warfare, Erik thought to himself. Was it possible that whatever country it was had planned to unleash it? No, that would be suicide. It was probably an allied country. What sense did it make to let the disease out at all? None.
And I'm sorry this isn't formatted correctly, I copied it from an email. (I wrote it on a laptop, and I'm not one for floppy disks.) Don't worry, just pull through this and you'll read perfectly formatted chapters after it. (
Nelson Mossman stumbled out of the car and into the cold, freezing air. Snow covered the ground securely, trying to make his every step more difficult. He began walking, straight away from the grill of the jeep he had driven in. The night and the heavy fog impeded everything he did. "Ok, where is it?" He asked reluctantly over the radio attached to his huge coat. "It should be right in front of you, can't you see it?" Erik Gowin's voice came out of the radio. Nelson couldn't see more than ten feet in any direction, the base's lights made a huge smudge in the sky. He pressed down on the radio button again. "I can't see my hands in front of my face, guide me to it." Nelson said, furious he had to be out here. "Whoa, I'm getting some new readings from the sensors, a few people are out there. They're somewhere around the satellite, poor fools probably don't know what it is." Erik said and laughed, putting his feet up on the desk. He watched on the radio as Nelson walked almost right into it. "I found it. I'll have it back in no time. What'd you say about others?" Erik Gowin's voice wavered; he looked around in the ice coldness for anything. "Yeah, there's people out there, they all seem to be huddled around something, and it isn't 'it.'" They had specified not to use anymore detail than necessary about the satellite. Nelson just stood there in the cold until he thought he heard something, the crunching of footsteps in the snow. He turned and picked up the satellite, preparing a smile for his fellow searcher. Nelson was able to easily hold the tiny satellite; it was a mere foot long. He saw the outline of a fur coat coming towards him. The man came into view; his face was covered with blood. The man tripped and fell, one of his feet had been severed, and he was walking on a bloody stump. Nelson's smiled instantly faded. "Holy shit! They must've opened the god damned thing!" Nelson turned around and ran as fast as he could. He smacked into the front of the jeep, the satellite slid out of his grip and across the dash. He turned around, fumbling to get the keys out. After finally getting the keys out he threw the satellite into the passenger seat, and got in. Suddenly, Nelson recognized what he had seen. A zombie? He chuckled to himself nervously at the thought. He started the jeep, and he looked forward. There were three of them. Three zombies stumbling towards him. The car refused to move its tires; they had sunk into the snow while it was sitting there. Nelson jammed the gas pedal nearly to the point of making it go through the floor. After the wheels spun for about ten seconds the jeep shot forward. The three zombies all were hit. One of them landed on the roof; the others bounced off the side. The jeep's paper-like roof could barely hold anything, and the man on top fell through it. The thing sat silently in the back seat as Nelson turned the jeep around and headed for the base as fast as he could. He turned to look back, the man... or whatever it was, remained still in the back of the seat. He knew there was an emergency pistol in the bag at it's feet. The base was a mere half a mile away when he abruptly reached for the bag. The man-zombie lunged it's upper body forward and bit into Nelson's upper arm. He smacked the zombies' head with the bag, sending it's cranium against the door. Nelson turned around, adjusting the mirror to look at it. His arm had barely been bitten at all but blood came from the small wound. It didn't move. The base was now right in front of him. He grabbed the bag in one hand and the satellite in the other. He ran out of the car, dropping both the things in his hands and turning around to lock the car. I'll be damned if I let that thing loose, he thought to himself and grabbed the bag and satellite and went into the heat of the base. Erik still sat with his feet up on the desk reading a magazine. "Oh hey, did you find it?" Erik said looking him over. "It was opened. They opened it." Nelson said, looking at Erik, who stood up. "What do you mean they opened it? Why would they open it?" "It's opened for god's sakes, and they've already become... you know." Nelson said holding his arm. Erik saw the small bit of blood running down Nelson's arm where the coat had been torn away. "What's...that from?" Erik said walking over cautiously. "He bit me. Remember from the file? They become almost entirely brainless, seeking out only food." Nelson said, reminding him. "Take the antidote. We'll get the hell out of here and call the T-Team." Nelson opened the satellite's doors. Under the four sliding doors should've been the virus and the antidote. Neither was there. Both of the containers' spots were empty. Nelson shuddered, a chill going up his spine. Maybe I can live without it, he thought to himself. He looked further around inside. There were other unused medications. He took one and threw the glass to the floor, which shattered it. "Found it?" Erik said smiling, digging around his paper cluttered desk, and stopping suddenly. "Here we go." Erik lifted a .50 caliber Desert Eagle from his disorganized pile of papers. A loud bang noise came from outside. Erik and Nelson turned their heads to look out one of the huge windows. Inside the jeep, the zombie had gone berserk, it slammed against the glass, ripped the paper top away and made a huge bloody mess out of the interior. "What happened? Why the hell is it in our jeep?" Erik asked, franticly. "I tried to run them over." "Damn it, how the hell are we supposed to get to the plane?" Erik said waving the gun. "Just shoot him. You have the pistol, you know. I have another in this bag too." Nelson responded angrily. "All right, let's go. You drive." Erik said watching the zombie in the car shift it's jaw. They threw their hoods up and opened the door. Once again the coldness attacked Nelson's skin. Nelson left first, examining the perimeter, making sure no other zombies were in the area. He glanced often at the zombie in the jeep who tracked his movements, banging on the glass. As Erik left the base he happened to glance at the satellite. One of the other medications had been taken. He noticed a label on the broken glass. It was a painkiller, not the antidote. The antidote wasn't there at all. Nelson didn't take the antidote, Erik's mind processed through it all. He remembered reading about what happens after the virus gets into your bloodstream. You become one of them, the estimated time for this version of the T-virus was two hours. He set his watch to go off in an hour and a half. He walked outside. Erik Gowin leveled the weapon on the zombie's face and fired. Blood spattered the seats, along with what remained of the once-man's head. "Help me get this fucking thing out." Erik pulled the limp body out of the car with Nelson's help. They looked in at the gore all over the seats and exchanged glances. Nelson sat in the driver's seat; he pulled his fur coat down uncomfortably so he didn't feel the blood. Erik took off his coat and used it to absorb the blood and threw it to the snowy-ground outside. They sat down and buckled their seat belts, each holding their pistols. "The plane's just a little ways up that way." Erik said, pointing. "Ok, let's get the hell out of here." Nelson pressed on the gas and they headed for the plane. Four minutes later they almost hit the plane with the jeep. Nelson was about to say something but Erik already knew what he was going to say. "I know how to fly it. You just sit back and relax. We're gonna be fine." Erik said, knowing that Nelson probably wouldn't be fine. They both ran for the plane, pistols coming with them. Nelson jogged into the back; he had a sudden sense of wooziness that forced him to sit down. The plane was a small, personal jet. Erik didn't bother to do all the normal checks that usually prevented disaster; they did a routine check once a month anyway, it was fine last time he checked. He started the engine and they took off. Erik turned on autopilot as they came to the correct height. He looked down at his watch. One hour. He felt weary. It was the search. Erik and Nelson were the only people at outpost 151. They were supposed to simply give 'it' to a special flight carrier. Oh shit, the flight could be going in any second now. It was too late for them now. They'll probably see the damn bastards and get out ok, Erik thought to himself. He set the plane to alarm mode, if something went wrong with the plane it would wake him, and drifted to sleep. Nelson was weary too, he tried to lie down on the seats that ran along the side of the small plane. Nothing appeared to work or help him sleep. He suddenly noticed something on the seat where he tried to rest his head. It was a note, written on a piece of fabric. The pen used to write it was neatly between the cushion and the back of the seat. We drove out to find it, the goddamned satellite. Wind had helped the plane along, we arrived two hours early. Would've been completely different. So different. The bastards at the outpost didn't respond to our radio calls so we went out to find it ourselves. It's hard to remember, so hard. There were so many of them. They were my friends. I know I'm dying, I feel it, the slowness. Anyway, we found the thing out there in the middle of nowhere. For some reason Rhett Lowery, thought we should just open the thing up, we had walked this far and carrying the whole satellite would be pointless. So...So he opened it, he took only what we needed, the virus and the antidote. Seven of us went out there, three of us came back. Rhett took good care of the virus and the antidote. Something swept over him suddenly. Like something hit him mentally. He just leapt out... he attacked everyone. Like some sort of cannibal. Somewhere out there is his body, limping along, carrying a bottle labeled T-virus. It doesn't contain the T-virus anymore though. The three of us came here. Our pilot is dead. He was the second one to go. I don't think we have much time left. We went to our plane, but the pilot or Rhett still had the keys. We found this thing. The three of us just sat here until we could plan how to keep ourselves from infecting others. Now, as I write this, I know we have no real weapons and we have no fucking clue as to how to kill ourselves with the plane. I just know one thing, we won't let anyone else get what we have. Kurt left the plane and went to the hangar ten minutes ago. I think he's dead. When I look at Andy Dawson he just looks back and nods his head. I have come to the resolution that we should lock ourselves up somehow. He is dead. That damned Kurt. He's right outside. One of them is eating him fucking alive. Andy went out there to fight too, tried to save him. He took a nasty bite in his arm. I'm bite free and infection free as far as I know, but I was pretty close to the virus container a few times. Andy pleaded with me not to do what I did, but I had to. It was for the better. He's still complaining and telling me stories about when we were kids through the closet door. I know how fast the disease works and I hear the sound of scraping once in awhile as the one's outside claw at the metal frame of the jet. Andy just stopped talking awhile ago. I think he finally turned. I guess I should do something in case I'm one of them. Andy is scratching the door. I have to go. I think he could get out. I don't know what to do, but if you read this, get the fuck out of here. Loretta Horton Nelson picked up his Desert Eagle and walked over to the closet. "Hello? Is anyone in there?" Nelson said, mostly to himself. There was no noise. Slowly, he turned the knob. The door slid open slowly. Nelson gasped and nearly threw up. The smell, then the image. It was clearly Andy and Loretta, one long metal pole connected the two to each other and to the closet's walls. Quite a resolution, Nelson thought. They both reached toward Nelson hopelessly, Andy's feet bicycled in the air as he tried to grab Nelson who just stared at them in disgust. Blood covered the floor. Nelson raised the Desert Eagle to Andy's head. Fuck, he thought, the goddamned plane couldn't have holes in it. He put the weapon at his side, he sat down and watched wide-eyed at the two zombies. He didn't want to be one of those things. The door swung shut as the plane took a slow right. Nelson breathed nervously. I didn't see them, he thought to himself, they aren't really there. He just sat there wide-eyed and awake, staring at that door. Erik Gowin abruptly awoke. But what woke him up? He looked at the plane's dials and readings; they were all normal and good to go. He turned around and looked back. The door into the pilot's cabin was still shut. He turned back around in his seat and closed his eyes. He then heard the quiet beeping from his watch. He dismissed it, then realized what it was for. He looked down at it. It said '-33:22:12'. He knew instantly what it meant. Nelson, or what once was Nelson, was now one of them. He turned quickly and locked the cabin door as fast as he could. The click was followed by a loud slam, Nelson's whole body against the door. It slammed again and again. Erik Gowin stood up and aimed the Desert Eagle at where the head would be approximately. The slam, another six times, the seventh time the lock bent off and the door broke open. Nelson stood there, Desert Eagle in his hands, his nose was open and blood ran down from it to his coat, making a large red blotch. He moaned, and took half a step. Erik fired the Desert Eagle, the bullet went into the zombie's open mouth and blew a one inch wide circle in the back of it's head, Gowin saw the passenger seats through the open hole in zombie-Nelson for a moment until blood sealed the gaping hole. Then, in a stretch of overkill he fired again, the nose was gone. Nelson fell onto the door he had just broken down. Blood gathered at his face. Erik looked blankly at his co-worker. He bent over and pushed the door, holding the zombie, back into the passenger area. That body would cause a huge distraction during landing, he thought to himself. It's bad enough I have to deal with the blood puddle at my feet. He turned back to the gauges and plane controls. It was time for him to land. The base was perfect for this, Erik thought to himself. He walked down the movable stairway. Three soldiers aimed weapons on him, more annoyingly the flashlights on their guns blinded him. It was a standard procedure. "What's going on?" An old man in a white lab coat standing behind the soldiers suddenly blurted out. "Someone opened the T-Virus satellite." Erik Gowin said, trying to shield his eyes from the flashlights. "T-Virus." The man in the white repeated. "Ah, yes. Zombie maker. The virus was unleashed or was the satellite just opened?" "It's free." Erik said. "I'm Nathaniel Whitfield. Follow me." Erik barely saw him wave his hand to follow. Whitfield stopped and looked at the plane for a moment. "Burn the plane." Moments later Erik Gowin sat in a small room across from Whitfield. It had bright lights, a table, two chairs, one door, bulletproof one way glass, and two armed guards. "What happened?" Whitfield began. "Well, we had been searching for the satellite for some time. We needed to make the deadline–" "Deadline?" Whitfield interrupted. "Before the flight courier landed." Erik explained. "Right. Go on." "It was Nelson's turn to drive out to sector such and such, I can't remember. He took the jeep and went out there. He found the satellite. He also found some people. They had already been...effected." "They had opened it." Whitfield filled in, he nodded, and he ran his hands through his fluffs of gray hair nervously. The wrinkles on his face deepened as he looked back at Erik. "Right, Nelson had the bright idea to run them over. He somehow hit one and it tore through the top of the jeep." The man looked at him with a confused face. "It was a kind of paper, not metal. As I was saying, Nelson got back, the zombie was in the jeep. When he came into the base I noticed he had been bitten. I remembered reading from a file we had, the virus took two hours to fully effect it's victims. I set my watch to go off in an hour and a half." Erik stared at the old scientist. "Basically, we shot the zombie in the jeep, drove to the plane, I shot Nelson–" "And you landed here." Whitfield interrupted again. "Right." Whitfield folded his hands in front of him. He looked down at the table. Erik just sat there, wondering what he was thinking. "As far as you know, did anyone take the antidote?" The scientist asked. "I have no way to be sure, it wasn't inside the satellite. Nelson didn't take it, that's all I can tell you." "I see. What outpost are you from again?" "151." "Right. I'll deal with this. You just feel free to relax here at the base." Whitfield stood up and sighed. "One of you," He said to the guards, "take him to the living area." Nathaniel Whitfield walked into the control center only moments later. Military people surrounded him. He called an officer over. "You're going to get me two pilots and an aircraft. Load it with explosives. I'll be waiting for you on the runway. If anyone argues or attempts to stop you just tell them you are carrying out Mr. Whitfield's orders." The living area was basically just a huge room with a few TVs and six sofas. On one TV a man was talking about chemical warfare. Erik Gowin sat down quietly on one of the plain white sofas and closed his eyes to relax, but he only found himself thinking. The T-Virus was being launched from another country to outpost 151. Chemical warfare, Erik thought to himself. Was it possible that whatever country it was had planned to unleash it? No, that would be suicide. It was probably an allied country. What sense did it make to let the disease out at all? None.