Chapter 42- Cube Farm

"So the people around me that have died, it may have been my fault?" The feeling of guilt weighed heavy on my heart. I immediately thought of Lucas, how I had held him as he died, and how that moment might have been where I contracted this awful disease. Or had I given it to him? Was it my fault he suffered so? Immune to this virus' effects, had I spread it to my neighbor? To Mr. Lawrence? My own mother? My throat felt thick and I started feeling dizzy. How many people had I sat next to on the train who's lives were now over because of me? Who else would suffer? The doctor put his hand on my shoulder. "You've lost people close to you, I can tell." His voice was soft and sympathetic. "Everyone down here has. That's one of the reasons we built this place, to save those we love, and everyone else, from what we carry." He went to a cabinet and pulled out a small white packet. I heard the rip of paper and saw him approach with some gauze and a needle. He sat me on a nearby stool and pricked my finger. I didn't even notice the pain. I sat blankly, digesting the horrible news I'd just received, as he stirred my blood into a a small vial of clear liquid. The liquid turned a shade of electric blue, the color matching the larger vial on the counter. "Positive" he said, holding up the vial to me. "You are a carrier. For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

"Hey, look on the bright side, at least not everyone can get it." I laughed uneasily and tried to sound optimistic. "Of all the people I've been in contact with I have only seen a small percentage change." The doctor shook his head sadly. "I wish that were true." He held the beaker of clear blue liquid up in the air. "It's constantly adapting, morphing, and like any virus it aggressively finds new ways to attach itself to the DNA of its host." I considered that for a moment. "So I'm not immune? I could still be changed?" He nodded, gesturing toward the door. "But if that happens, we don't give up." We left the laboratory and walked back out into the cavernous room. The burden I felt didn't seem to weigh on the minds of those who lived in this little community. A feeling of safety and security seemed to reside on the countenance of every resident. Children were playing on a bright playground next to one of the houses, smiling as they swung on the swings "Higher, higher!" They called to each other. Their laughter rang through the air, drawing the attention of two women kneeling next to a small garden box nearby. They stopped and smiled, calling out to the kids as they played. "Great job honey!" and "Wow sweetheart, you're doing so well!" They resumed their digging, planting small seeds deep in the rich dark earth. One stopped and mopped her brow with the back of her hand, being careful not to get dirt from her trowel in her hair. She smiles politely as we pass, but I can see sadness in the back of her eyes, lingering. It's a reminder that no matter how normal life might seem down here, it's just not the same, and the fear of infection must always be lingering in the back of their mind. "That's Mary and Susan, they are married to Jack and Steve Hansworth, two brothers that help on our containment team." His voice dropped low "Mary's two year old daughter was one of the first infected. She unfortunately passed away before the treatment could save her." I stopped in my tracks. "Treatment?" I asked, surprised. "You mean, like a... cure?" The doctor smiled. I got the impression again that this was all part of a finely tuned sales pitch. So far it was working, I was eager to learn more.

We walked past a dozen houses before arriving at two double doors in the back of the room. Similar to the laboratory, they were made of grey steel and secured by a keypad mounted to the right of the door on the concrete wall.

Before he punched in his code, he stopped and looked at me. "Before we go inside, I need to prepare you for what you are about to see." He said plainly. "You will not be in danger, we have this area perfectly under control. We employ various tactics to not only keep us safe, but give the subject the chance to be treated appropriately." He paused, and cleared his throat. "Not everyone in here will be saved in time, and not every situation is preventable. We're doing our best, and we've seen some real success, but we've lost people too." He looked into my eyes. "Under no circumstances are you to touch anything in this room, do you understand?" I was a little shaken by his direct approach. I nodded in agreement and he turned to tap the code into the panel.

The door opened with a hiss and revealed a small room, not more than a few feet wide. Hazmat suits hung from hooks above simple wooden benches. The doctor immediately took the closest one and stepped into it. He pulled it up over his head and pushed his hands into the gloves. He turned around and grabbed a long tether attached to the zipper on the back. He pulled up the zipper and turned to me, gesturing toward one of the suits. I removed it from the hook and stepped into the boots. They were soft on the bottom, and I could feel them squash under my shoes. The thick rubber was cold and as I pulled the suit up my body I could hear the rubber snap and wiggle as it was pulled into shape. I pushed my arms down the sleeves and felt the cold rubber push my shirt sleeves up my arms. I wiggled a little bit to get them down, annoyed by the way they stuck inside the rubber sleeve. I pushed my fingers into the thick gloves, noticing the taped seams sealed tight. "Are these really necessary?" I asked before I lifted the helmet over my head. He nodded and his voice sounded distant and almost echoed through the suit. "It's for everyone's protection, not just ours." He opened the inner door and we stepped inside a small room barely big enough for the two of us. A glass window on the left revealed a man at a series of computer consoles. "Scanning" he said professionally and I heard the soft hum of some machine buried somewhere in the walls. "Clean" he said, followed by the whoosh of air being blown from above. The room filled with mist up to our waist and I moved my hands through it slowly. It was thick and I scooped a little tuft that sat like a miniature cloud in the palm of my hand before it dissipated into the air.

The door inside opened like an elevator, and we stepped out onto a catwalk overlooking a series of acrylic cubes connected by wires, cables, and other apparatus. Inside were individuals confined and under observation. Some sat in a corner alone, others lay in beds. Other than the medical equipment and a few overhead lights, there were no other items inside to decorate these little prisons. Men in white lab coats walked to and from each enclosure, observing the subjects and recording information into handheld tablets. They wore sanitary caps, masks and plastic eyewear. "Some of these are family members or friends of residents," he said. "Others are stragglers, the homeless, and those that the police or various government agencies found infected on the streets."

We walked down the solid metal stairs together, taking each step carefully and slowly. As we walked out onto the floor I noticed the faces of the inhabitants. The all too familiar scratches on their bodies accompanied the horrible, yellow eyes. Most stood in a corner mindlessly, others scratched at the walls as though trying to grasp their observers, and the ones in beds were strapped down tight. "The ones in beds..." I started. "Do they..." The doctor looked over at the one I was staring at. "Yes." he said, anticipating my question. "They attack the closest person at every opportunity. They are in the final stages, and not a single sedation technique we've tried will subdue them, so the only solution is restraint." I looked at the nearest containment unit and saw a young girl, no older than twelve, violently struggling against her wrist and ankle restraints. Her yellow eyes were void of emotion and her open mouth revealed swollen, bloody gums and crooked teeth that seemed to be turning brown. I stepped closer to the pane of thick acrylic separating us. She had been struggling so long that the flesh around her wrists and ankles had worn away, leaving dry, swollen sinews wrapped over her white bones. Her face was gaunt and malnourished, and her tawny skin was dry and cracked. "What will happen to her?" I asked, a hint of sadness in my voice. The doctor looked at her without emotion. "We haven't given up. We continue to test various inoculations, hoping that we can find a way to stop the process and eventually reverse it." He looked over at the next cube where a teenage boy sat in the corner. His yellow eyes stared blankly out into nothing, and he did not react or even acknowledge our presence. "If we catch it early enough we can slow the process significantly." The doctor said with pride. "This particular kid hasn't progressed past this stage. He's been staring at the wall for nearly two weeks now." I looked over at the doctor in surprise. "Two weeks?" I asked in shock. "How does he eat? Drink? Shouldn't he be dead?" The doctor cocked his head to the side as though continuing to study the boy. "We're not entirely sure how it happens, but the best way I could describe it is kind of an 'animal photosynthesis.'"

I walked from cube to cube, looking at the various inhabitants. "We've been able to define three distinct phases." The doctor explained. "The first phase is the one most people are familiar with. We call it the 'stare,' and it typically lasts between 24 and 48 hours. Its during this stage when the genetic mutation takes place." We moved to the cube opposite where a large middle age man slammed his fists against his cage. "Once the mutation is complete, the next phase is the 'fight,' where they attack anyone who gets close to them." I looked at the man inside his cage, infuriated that he could not reach me. "Highly aggressive, they seem to have the need to nourish themselves through cannibalism. They have almost supernatural speed and strength, and with the pain centers in their brain turned off, they do not stop until they have completed their objective or been killed." He moved to the next cube where an old man struggled in the restraints that held him securely in place. "Finally, there is the 'spread,' where they seem to have that primeval desire to propagate the species. It is by far the most aggressive of the stages. I considered this for a moment and then turned to challenge his assumption. "You mean they try to..." I couldn't even complete my sentence. He realized that I was picturing some sort of Zombie intercourse and immediately retracted. "No, no, not that kind of propagation. The spread merely creates an instinct to cover as much territory as possible, in essence, to 'spread' their illness to others. We don't know why, but when they get to this stage they run, chase, even hunt those not yet infected." I thought of my mother's flight into the woods after killing Mr. Munn and the resulting damage to all the homes in that neighborhood. I thought of the poor man who buried his own child in the yard and the ferocity of his wife as she tried to attack us. "Let's keep going." I said softly, not wanting to relive any more of those horrible memories.

We walked past a pregnant woman with thick yellow eyes standing in the middle of her cube, staring into the distance. "This is Deborah. We found her at a hospital in the waiting room. She was there for a routine prenatal checkup when she was exposed. We immediate brought her here and administered a dose of an experimental serum we call H-56. So far we believe it freezes the virus' ability to create further mutation, but we do not see any signs of reversing the process." I looked at her bulging stomach. "What about the baby? I asked in sorrow. "It's dead." He said with a hint of regret. "We couldn't hear a heartbeat when she arrived. We're concocting new serums all the time to aid in reversal, to help save Deborah and the others, but so far nothing has worked. It's possible the virus will win out and move to the next stage before we find a cure, but we're not sure." Deborah stared, unmoving. "None of the subjects we've caught have been here longer than a few weeks, so it's possible we're only delaying the inevitable." He cleared his throat and we we walked to the next cube where an old man lay prostrate on the cold concrete floor. "So it's possible," I surmised. "That you haven't stopped it, but only slowed it down." He nodded his head and pointed back at the Deborah. "That's precisely why we continue to keep each subject confined, no exceptions." His voice was cold and tired. "We have no idea how long this could take." I stopped and looked him in the eyes. "What if the virus mutates into something even more horrific?" He nodded and walked further down the walkway toward the back of the room. "Another reason to keep them locked up." He gestured around the room. "You'll see different stages all throughout this area, and eventually..." He stopped and looked back at me, realizing I was no longer following him. "Are you okay?" He walked back to the cube where I stood motionless. The monster inside was slamming itself against the wall, desperately trying to reach me. It's eyes we're full of hate and malice, and each time it struck the plexiglass wall a streak of dark, half-congealed blood smeared across the clean surface. It's nails were long and dark, dirt and blood crusted underneath them. Exposed bone gleamed through the fingertips, no doubt from scratching endlessly on the walls of the impenetrable prison. "This one is in the the spread stage." The doctor said educationally. "It's eagerly trying to find new subjects with which it can share its little gift." He chuckled at his own joke and cleared his throat when he realized I wasn't laughing. "Are you okay?" He asked, a worried tone in his voice. A single tear rolled from my eye down my cheek, but I didn't bother to wipe it away. "That.." I said in a soft whisper. "Is my mother."